


The Force of Gravity

by qwertybob



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: AU, Adam-Centric, Bisexual Adam, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Ronan Lynch Being an Asshole, Ronan Lynch Loves Adam Parrish, Ronan Lynch is Bad at Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-13 13:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10514565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwertybob/pseuds/qwertybob
Summary: Non-magical AU in which Adam does not go to Aglionby (yet) and the Raven Gang are trying to save a mysterious rainforest.





	1. Excellent Customer Service

The summer Adam met Ronan Lynch was the hottest summer Henrietta had ever experienced. Adam had grown up his entire life in the trailer park, surrounded by hot metal and no air conditioning and having to find shade beneath some trees for any sort of reprieve, but the summer he met Ronan Lynch was the hottest by far.

Adam blamed the heat for his behavior that day. Boyd was clammed up in his air-conditioned office and told Adam to only bother him in cases of emergency as Adam worked in the garage. Surrounded by metal and overheating engines. Slick grease prevented the sweat from evaporating off his skin. It was so hot, he had abandoned the sleeves of his coveralls and had it rolled down to his waist, but even that was not enough. It was in this state of perpetual annoyance and potential heat stroke that Ronan Lynch drove his black beemer into the shop for the first time.

“How can I help you?” Adam asked, wiping his hands on a greasy cloth.

The customer was dressed all in black, and Adam felt sweat pooling under his shirt just imaging the heat of those clothes. Even sweaty and obviously irritated, the customer had that young, rich and free look about him that plagued about half of the Henrietta population—the half to which Adam did not belong. He glanced at the black BMV in the lot, noticed the newness of the model, combined with the scratches on the paint and the carelessness with which it was driven, and felt a scowl fall onto his lips.

“The A/C is broken,” the customer said. He kicked the tire of his car. “Fucking useless.”

Adam’s teeth ground together. He couldn’t even afford a shitty car made from spare parts, and this idiot was complaining about a broken air conditioner in his expensive BMW that he couldn’t even bother taking good care of? It was fucking useless because the A/C was broken? Jesus Christ, this idiot was a spoiled fucking asshole.

“Do you want a full work-up of the car? We can have it done by the end of the day.”

The customer bared his teeth like a wild animal, his blue eyes like a frigid breeze in the heat of summer. “No, I do not want a full fucking work-up. I just want my A/C fixed and I want to get out of this shitty little shop before I melt into a fucking puddle. Is that all right with you, or do I have to find somewhere else who can help me without a full fucking work-up?”

Fury rose up in Adam like a viper with its fangs bared. He clenched his fists at his sides.

The customer noticed, a horrible grin spreading over the sharp lines of his face. “What, don’t tell me a fist-fight is part of the package deal. You going to hit me, pretty boy?”

It was then that Adam noticed the busted lip and a large purple bruise on the customer’s jaw, like he had just come from a brawl. Adam hadn’t noticed them before because they had seemed like such an natural part of his features. The bruises and cuts didn’t stand out any differently than the sharp cut of his eyes, or the snarl on his mouth, or the leather bracelets around his scarred wrists.

Seeing the damage of what a fist could do to a person’s face immediately stilled Adam’s arm, and sent a shiver down his spine. By some miracle, he was able to keep that hidden. He turned his face away and swore under his breath as the pounding of his blood cooled and calmed. He slowly unclenched his fists and forced a breath. He was not his father. The back of his dry hands had split open, and the sharp pain and stinging of blood was enough to pull him out of his anger and back into himself.

When Adam looked back up, the customer was staring at Adam as if assessing the threat. When he smirked, Adam glared and grabbed the customer sheet and a pen. “It takes two days for repairs. If you need transport back to your place of work, we can arrange for a taxi.”

“Two days? You can do a full work-up within a day, but you need two to replace a fucking air conditioner?”

Adam exhaled through his nose. “We don’t carry the parts of your car. I have to order it in. Two days is the best you’re going to get. Is that going to be a problem?”

The question came out harsher than he intended, but the customer’s smirk only grew. “Wow, great customer service.”

Adam thrust the sheet at him, and the customer snatched it out of his hand with equal force. It was a miracle the paper didn’t tear in half.

As the customer filled out the form, Adam did a quick inspection of the car for any other outwardly obvious defects. He catalogued a few scratches, a large dent in the front bender, and a chip in the back headlight, but he didn’t dare bring up possible repairs. He didn’t trust himself not to explode when the asshole customer insisted he didn’t need anything other than the A/C fixed again.

Once the customer was finished filling out the sheet, he handed it back to Adam, who read the name with a forced disinterest.

Ronan Lynch.

“Your car will be ready in two days, Mr. Lynch. We’ll give you a call as soon as it’s ready. Do you need us to get you a cab?” _Or are you going to fly back to hell on your fire-breathing dragon-demon?_

“Don’t bother,” Ronan Lynch said, already pulling out his phone. He put it to his ear. “Gansey, it’s me. No, I’m fine—Jesus Christ, relax. No, I didn’t put Declan in the hospital, for fuck’s sake. He’s fine. I said I’m _fine_ — _Gansey_. Shut the fuck up for a second. Can you pick me up at Boyd’s? Yes, the mechanic, Jesus. No.” An exaggerated eye roll. “Yes, I fucked up my car in a street race. Goddamn it, can you please just pick me up? I’ll tell you when you get here.”

Ronan hung up, another disgusted snarl on his face as he rubbed his forehead and wiped the sweat from his brow. Adam stood there watching him. He realized this Ronan Lynch wasn’t being extra rude to Adam—he was even rude to the people he called in emergencies. And whoever it was that was coming to pick him up believed Ronan to have put someone in a hospital, or end up in the hospital himself. The bruise on his jaw and the split lip must have not been a new addition to his aesthetic, as Adam suspected. More of a reoccurring accessory.

Ronan looked up and met Adam’s too-long stare. He snarled again, but Adam re-evaluated it as just another hidden weapon on a switchblade—not one tailor-made for Adam. It made it seem less offensive. “Aren’t you going to move the car into the garage, or is your job just to stand there and be pretty?”

That was the second time Lynch had called him pretty in the last ten minutes. “Someone else will do it later. I don’t drive stick.”

He wasn’t sure why he added that last bit because it was strictly not something Ronan Lynch needed to know.

The corner of Ronan's mouth turned into a frown, his eyes widening in surprise. “A mechanic who can’t drive stick? Jesus Christ.”

Adam felt himself flush more than the heat was already making him and he forced himself to walk away. He didn’t need to take this shit from a rich boy, street-fighter, street-racer who swore far more than necessary. It wasn’t Adam’s fault he couldn’t drive stick—it was probably a miracle he even knew how to drive in the first place. Not everyone could afford the luxury of driving, and Adam was one of those people who couldn’t.

Adam continued working as Lynch waited outside, his pointed swears punctuating the silence every so often. After twenty minutes, a bright orange Camaro pulled into the lot. Ronan stood up, swearing at himself, at the driver, at the heat, at his fucking useless car. Ronan Lynch got into the orange monstrosity, slamming the door shut, and the Camaro drove away, taking the miserable Ronan Lynch with it.

Later that night, lying in the coolness of his bed, Adam’s thoughts focused on his encounter with Ronan Lynch. 

This hadn’t been the first time he had dealt with a difficult customer, and it wouldn’t be the last. Adam prided himself on being able to deal with difficult people with relative ease, and all of the negativity of his day would usually be gone by the time he went to bed. He endured all the looks-down-haughty-noses because he knew this job was only temporary. Soon, he would be off to college, and he would get a good job, and he would be the one hiring these entitled sons-of-money. Now that he wasn't overheated, he almost regretted the way he had fallen victim to Lynch's baiting. Adam was bettering than that. 

For some reason, Adam couldn't shake this encounter. Partly because of regret for the way he acted, but also something else. As he tried to work out what about the interaction was nagging on him, an image of Ronan Lynch appeared in his mind, the look on his face that was half-challenge, half-appraisal.

It was obvious that Ronan Lynch was cut from the same cloth of all those bastards who treated Adam like shit—the ones that looked at him and saw trailer trash, Henrietta-grown, Henrietta-stuck. Ronan Lynch was cut from the same material as all of those bastards, but Lynch was a torn pair of black jeans, while the rest were fashioned into tailored suits. Same material, different cut. And Adam Parrish, ever curious, couldn’t help wondering why that was such an intriguing concept.

***

Adam wasn’t on shift when Ronan picked up his car, and something almost like disappointment washed through him. He told himself it was only because he wouldn’t have another opportunity to figure out what made Lynch different than everyone else. He was rich, entitled and as arrogant as the rest of them, but he didn’t dress like he had money, and Adam had never seen one of them getting into fights that could potentially end up in the hospital, either.

A flood of guilt washed through him when he realized what a hypocritical ass he was being. Didn’t those rich kids take one look at him, listen to a single drawl of his accent, and make judgments about his life? Spinning broad accusations about what he would become and what he went home to just because of an outward appearance? Wasn’t he doing the exact same thing, but in the opposite direction?

Adam threw a wrench into a box with far more force than was necessary, which earned him a stern glare from Boyd from inside his office. Adam waved an apology as a loud engine pierced the heat. Adam turned and saw the bright orange Camaro pull into the lot. His pulse jumped—because how many bright orange 1973 Camaros could there be in Henrietta?

The car parked and a small girl with wildly uneven black hair jumped out of the passenger seat. Adam tried not to stare at her full lips and her breasts and the way her eyes laughed even when her mouth didn’t. A boy wearing wire-rimmed glasses, a bright teal polo shirt, ironed chinos and boat-shoes got out of the driver’s seat. A third boy, fair with a smudge of dirt on his cheek, got out of the back. The three of them pranced towards Adam with the look of careless teenagers in the heat of summer.

Ronan Lynch was not with them, but this was undoubtedly the same car that had picked him up.

“How can I help you?” Adam asked.

“Hello,” the girl said, giving him a pleasant smile, which he found hard not to return in kind. “The Camaro is always breaking down and it’s about time we got it fixed.”

“Like I said, this is entirely unnecessary, Jane,” Teal Polo said. “It’s fine now.”

“It broke down twice on the way over here,” said the pale boy. The girl gave a fierce nod of support.

Teal Polo looked at Adam with a hopeless sort of look on his face. “Well? Can you help us?”

Adam had a couple oil changes to do before he got off shift in an hour, but those would take thirty minutes at most, and all three of them were looking at him with such hopeful expressions, he couldn’t say no. The girl beamed at him, and he felt a familiar flush climb up his neck as he popped the hood and looked inside.

He diagnosed a few problems immediately, some which could be easily fixed on the spot, and some that would need a bit more work.

“And what does that do?” the girl asked, pointing at one of the things Adam had just fixed. “Just in case it breaks down again and I need to fix it.”

Adam explained because she smiled at him and looked genuinely interested in hearing the answer. He felt another wave of shame as Teal Polo, who was obviously with her, went off to take a phone call. He didn’t know this boy, who looked like he could spend money however he pleased, which normally would have made Adam immediately resentful. But the girl’s obvious attachment to him cast Teal Polo in a different light. He couldn’t be so bad if this magnificent girl had chosen him, could he? And knowing that he probably wasn't a bad guy just made Adam feel more guilty for his attraction to his girlfriend.

As Adam finished his inspection, he caught the tail end of Teal Polo’s conversation. “Yeah, we’re at Boyd’s. I don’t know, twenty minutes? Yes, I am fully aware, but it was the closest mechanic.” Teal Polo glanced at him and Adam looked away, embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping. “Yes. No. Jesus Christ, Ronan. I will not. We’ll be there in thirty at the latest. Yeah. Bye.”

Adam busied himself with cleaning his hands of grease and shut the hood. The girl sat on top of it, the pale boy joining her. Both of them gave Adam kind smiles, and he felt a pull in his chest. Something was trying to draw him towards them by some invisible force.

“I’m Blue Sargent,” the girl said, extending a hand for him to shake. He did, and she didn’t seem to notice the grease permanently staining his fingers. “And this is Noah Czerny.”

Adam shook Noah’s hand too—freezing and entirely welcome in this heat. Teal Polo came over just as Adam introduced himself.

“Pleasure to meet you, Adam Parrish. I’m Gansey.”

Adam shook his hand. “Is that it?”

Gansey smiled. “That’s all there is.”

Blue rolled her eyes. “Actually, there’s much more to it. This is Richard Campbell Gansey, the third. Or Dick, if you’re lazy.”

“Thank you, Jane,” Gansey said, pushing his glasses up on his nose and wrapping an easy arm around Blue’s shoulders before looking back at Adam. “But just Gansey is fine. Preferred, actually. How’s the Pig?”

Adam blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“The car,” Blue said, laughing.

“Oh. It’ll work for now, but if you want to keep it from breaking down in the future, you’re probably going to have to overhaul the entire engine. That thing is ancient.”

“I know,” Gansey said, but with an affectionate grin. Noah rolled his eyes as Blue gave an exasperated laugh. Adam noticed the obvious warmth between this group of friends, and wondered how Ronan Lynch fit into this picture. He couldn’t imagine Ronan Lynch laughing like the three were now, or sitting on the hood of an orange Camaro with his arm around a boy wearing a borderline-offensively bright teal polo, but then again, Adam didn’t know anything about Ronan Lynch at all. Only that he seemed to be a misfit, just like the three people in front of him. All four of them, though they all looked different and obviously came from various backgrounds, all had that similar energy about them that Adam hadn’t felt before.

Made from the same impossible material, but cut into different magnificent shapes.  

“What do we owe you, Adam?”

Adam brought out the bill and accepted Gansey’s payment.

“Thank you for the excellent customer service, Mr. Parrish. I have only heard good things.”

Noah snorted. “Are you sure? I’m pretty sure Ronan’s exact words were, ‘Don’t fucking bother.’”

Adam flushed and scowled, his mind automatically jumping to the worst possible things Ronan could have said about him. Gansey gave Noah a lightly reproachful look, and Noah cackled. “Don’t take it personally,” the smaller boy said to Adam. “He’s usually wrong about these sorts of things anyway. None of us believed him.”

“He wasn’t wrong about one thing though,” Blue said, her eyes shining with mischief. “You sure are pretty.”

“Jane!” Gansey said. Noah held his stomach as he fell backwards onto the Camaro, laughing. Adam’s face felt like the hood of a black car underneath the Henrietta afternoon sun. Gansey sent him an apologetic look.

“I’m just teasing you, Adam,” Blue said, laughing breathlessly. “Thank you for taking your time to explain some of the car things to me. It was very kind and we will think of you when I am fixing the Pig on the side of the road again.”

“Why wouldn’t _I_ be the one fixing it?” Gansey said.

She patted his chest and smoothed out his collar. Such a simple gesture, but so much more than just a casual touch. Adam felt his cheeks go pink again. “Because you would get grease all over your polo, Dick Gansey the third, and I’m willing to take that bullet for you.”

Gansey smiled, wide and easy, and pushed up his glasses. “Thank you, Jane, but I would simply take _off_ the polo before fixing it.”

“Suit yourself. I’m definitely not complaining,” she said, hopping off the hood and placing a quick kiss against his lips before prancing towards the driver’s seat. “Can I drive?”

Noah shook his head fearfully, but Gansey sighed and tossed her the keys. He flashed another smile at Adam. “Thanks again. I would say it’d be nice seeing you again, but that would mean the Pig is in the shop, which is something I hope to avoid. But I do hope to see you again because you seem like an exceptional specimen of a human being.”

“Why don’t you come to Nino’s with us?” Noah interrupted. “There’s room at the table.”

“Great idea, Noah!” Gansey exclaimed, a wide grin on his face. “Have you eaten dinner yet? Surely your shift must be ending soon. Ronan can wait a bit longer. Would you like to join us at Nino’s?”

“Get in, Parrish!” Blue called from the front seat. “Tell us more about cars—or maybe about something else that is more interesting!”

Adam felt all at once overwhelmed at these strange people inviting him to dinner, with their easy laughs and easy touches and easy affection. He felt longing and the need to distance himself at the same time. They barely knew him, but they had already determined he could be part of their group, like he already belonged somehow. That he was made from the same material, but just in a dingier cut. It was flattering and wonderful and entirely too heavy for him to handle.

Adam shook his head, and immediately wished he could take it back. “Sorry, still got a couple more cars to fix up.” And he had to get to his next job right after this, but that he kept to himself. They didn’t need to know how many jobs he worked, or how he didn’t have the luxury of eating out for dinner when all of his money went to his savings account. 

Gansey looked disappointed, and Adam thought that was strange because they barely knew each other, but again, it was very flattering. His phone rang again and he picked it up, frowning. “Ronan—we’re leaving now. Twenty minutes! Yes, I mean it this time. Come on, surely you can wait a bit longer—Henry is there? Jesus, please don’t antagonize him. We’ll be there in twenty, and Henry better be in one piece when we get there—Christ, Ronan, just—” Gansey sighed and hung up the phone as Noah climbed into the backseat. Gansey stepped into the passenger seat as Blue revved the engine.

“Sure you don’t want to come along, Adam?” Blue asked, sticking her head out the window. She looked entirely too small to be sitting behind the driver’s seat, but the determination in her hands and her eyes made up for it.

“I’m sure,” he said, but it was the least sure he'd ever been about anything.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if I will finish this, but I missed writing about my fav losers.


	2. Hallucination

After the Camaro left the lot, it was as if Blue, Gansey, Noah, and Ronan had all been part of some fantastic dream. Something Adam had imagined in his lonely thoughts—a heat-induced hallucination. Adam was tempted to look through the old receipts to make sure Ronan Lynch’s black BMW and Richard Campbell Gansey III’s orange Camaro were still in the records, but he didn’t. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he had somehow imagined the whole thing.

Summer was in full swing, but the heat had died down since that day Ronan’s black BMW pulled into Boyd’s lot. Adam had convinced himself he had imagined the entire thing, or at least, was misremembering some of the details. Surely he couldn’t have imagined Ronan Lynch to be that antagonistic, or Blue to be that electric, or Noah to be so selflessly inviting, or Gansey to be that cheerfully oblivious to the state of Adam’s greasy hands, or the Camaro to be that horribly orange. His lonely mind had over-saturated the memories, made them more desirable than they were because of how deprived he had felt of anything like that before. None of it had been real.

Those were the thoughts going through his mind as he biked to his next shift at the hardware store. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that when he saw the black BMW pulled over at the side of the road, he thought it had appeared from the sheer will of his mind. As if his dreams had manifested a real physical thing, and now it sat there, haunting him like a nightmare.

His bike slowed when he noticed the hood was up, steam rolling into the air. He still wasn’t convinced this wasn’t a hallucination, but he could feel the heat radiating off the car as he approached.

Ronan Lynch stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at the steaming engine in front of him as if the car had punched him in the face. The bruises on his jaw and the busted lip had healed, but there was a fresh cut on his eyebrow to replace them. His rotating accessories.

He didn't notice Adam, so Adam announced his arrival. “Probably should have gotten the full work-up, huh?”

Ronan’s head jerked up. His eyes widened then narrowed in quick succession. “You? Fucking Christ.”

Adam could have biked away and left Lynch here by himself to deal with his car trouble. He could have moved on with his life and let this strange constellation of people disappear from his life.

But there was that pull in his chest again. Like gravity.

Adam stepped off his bike. He peered into the hood. The engine belts were slipping, so he pulled the end of his shirt free, wrapped his hand in it and tightened the belts, swearing lightly at the heat. When it was finished, he stepped back, checking his hands for grease, checking his shirt for burns, and looked up at Ronan. Idly, he wondered if the grease would come out—it was one of his favorites and still intact—but it didn't distress him as much as he imagined it would.

Ronan stared at him, eyebrows drawn in, a frown on his lips, but he didn’t look unfriendly. Adam definitely hadn’t imagined the ferocious lines of Lynch’s face, but right now they were smoothed over with confusion. It was unsettling.  

“What did you do?”

“The engine belts were loose. Overheats if they’re not tight enough. Should be fine now, after you let it cool.”

Ronan fidgeted before finally deciding on crossing his arms over his chest. “Parrish, right?”

Adam stared at Ronan numbly before nodding once. How did he know? Did Gansey, Blue and Noah talk about him after they had left that day? What could they have had possibly said so that Ronan would remember his name?

“What do I owe you?”

“What?”

“Your fee. For fixing the engine.”

Adam almost laughed. “I’m off duty. It took five seconds.”

When Ronan didn’t say anything, Adam stepped towards his bike, which lay pathetically on the sidewalk like a broken doll next to a shiny new toy. His heart was beating too hard, and taking the five steps towards it felt frustratingly embarrassing.

“Where are you going?” Ronan asked, forcing Adam to turn around. He was grinding his teeth together. The look on his face still looked hostile, but it also seemed like he was waving a white flag, like he was backing down from a fight. “At least let me drive you somewhere if you’re not going to accept cash.”

A night like tonight was the perfect sort for biking—hot, but with a breeze that cooled his skin as he rode. Clear skies, no cars, a still sort of peace where his mind was free to not think for the forty-minute bike ride across town.

Adam could have said no, but there was no fighting gravity.

“You know Hank’s Hardware on June Street?”

Ronan nodded, the tension in his shoulders loosening a smidgeon. “That’s at least a twenty-minute drive. You were going to bike all the way over there?”

Adam shrugged.

“Put your bike in the trunk.”

What was Adam doing? Ronan Lynch was an asshole. Adam didn’t need that sort of snake venom in his life. He had work and his goals and there was no space in between for anything else.

 _Anything else?_ Adam thought to himself. What exactly did he think was going to happen with Ronan?

Adam put his bike in the trunk and got into the passenger seat as Ronan slammed the hood of the car shut and then slammed the driver door behind him. The entire frame rocked.

“Jesus Christ!” Adam cried. A big black bird had flown into the front seat and landed on his shoulder. He froze as the bird assessed him, its head titling from side to side as its claws dug into his shoulder.

Ronan laughed. “That’s Chainsaw. You’re in her spot.”

Adam couldn’t breathe. The bird’s beak was millimeters from his eyeball. “What. The. Fuck.”

“Chainsaw, off.”

The bird flew off Adam’s shoulder and into the backseat, but Adam was still frozen, his heart racing. “You have a pet _crow_?”

“Not a crow. Raven.”

“Yes, huge fucking difference. Like mistaking a cat for a dog.”

Ronan just smirked as he turned on the engine. Blaring EDM music blasted through the stereo and Adam covered his good ear, flinching as the bass rocked a steady beat through his entire body. He was being bombarded by a tsunami of noise.

What the fuck was happening? Had he somehow fallen into a dream state where only the impossible was possible?

“Sorry,” Ronan said, letting out a single laugh as he turned down the music to a normal listening level and shifted into gear. He did not need directions to the hardware store as the rubber squealed and the now-cooled engine roared through the streets.

“Who the fuck _are_ you?” Adam said before he could stop himself. His heart was still pounding from the enormous raven named Chainsaw and the loudness of the EDM. He could still feel the bass thrumming through his feet.

Ronan laughed, and Adam had to admit there was something almost musical about the harsh sound of it. “Everyone’s worst nightmare.”

Adam snorted, relaxing against the seat despite the bird in the back, cawing softly, and this strange snake-of-a-boy next to him.

“Why are you going to the hardware store? Picking up parts for an air conditioner?” Ronan’s smile was cold, but so fucking amused with himself.

Adam glared. “No. I work there,” he said immediately, though upon further reflection, realized he should have lied. In any other situation, Adam would have concocted an excuse—maybe he had to pick up something before the store closed to fix a loose cabinet at home or something—but the truth had galloped out of him before he could stop it.

Ronan didn’t respond. He didn’t question the fact that Adam already had a job at Boyd’s, which was on the other side of town. Instead, he said: “You got grease all over your shirt.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t get any on your upholstery.”

“That’s not what I meant, asshole.”

Adam frowned. “What did you mean then?”

Ronan’s brows tightened, and his lips thinned into a severe line on his face. Like his laugh, there was something gracefully elegant about the sharpness of it all, a harmonious edge that complimented everything else. Every piece of Ronan Lynch worked together to create a unified image that was both complete and symmetrical.

“Won’t your boss be mad that you look like you just fixed a broken car on the side of the road?”

Adam was surprised that Ronan would care enough to make the link between the grease on his shirt and being presentable enough for a job. But it was unfair of Adam to assume that because Ronan was angry and rude, he couldn’t also be observant at the same time.

“It’s an overnight stocking job. They don’t care what I look like.”

“Oh.”

They fell silent and Adam was regretting getting into the car. There was still another fifteen minutes of awkward silence they had to endure. Ronan must have felt it too because he raised the volume of the music, drowning the silence with beats and synths.

That was how it remained until they pulled up to a red light and the song came to an end. The silence magnified. Ronan’s hands stiffened on the steering wheel, and Adam thought it was because he was regretting letting a complete stranger into his car, but Ronan was looking into the rear view. Adam glanced at his side mirror and saw a familiar white Mitsubishi with a back wing and a knife painted on the side. It stopped next to them on Adam’s side.

Ronan’s knuckles were white. The other driver—Kavinsky, if Adam remembered correctly—was trying to get Adam to roll down the window.

“Don’t,” Ronan said, his voice stiff and cold.

Adam ignored him. The buzz of the window reclining was like a shrill piercing cry.

“Hey, Lynch! Where you been, fucker? What do you say? One for the old days? Who the fuck is your boy-toy?”

Adam did not like Kavinsky. He was the worst of the worst when it came to the rich boys of Henrietta, coming into the shop every other week with some new problem with his car. Sometimes, it wasn’t even the same car that Adam fixed the last time, meaning this douchebag could afford to get them replaced that often. Adam sometimes wondered why he even bothered coming into the shop at all. Need an oil change? Why bother—just buy a new fucking car with new oil already included!

Ronan didn’t respond. He kept his hands on the wheels and his eyes ahead, but Adam knew he wanted to. This stretch of road was notorious for racing. Once the lights turned green, they stayed green for the entire stretch if you went fast enough. Adam didn’t have a car, but even on his bike, he could appreciate the smoothness of the track.

And right now, it was completely devoid of other cars except for the black beemer and the white Mitsubishi.

“What time do you have to be at work?” Ronan asked, his voice stiff, his fingers stiffer.

Adam calmly put on his seatbelt, which he had forgotten to do in his fright from the bird and the music. “Not for another 40 minutes.”

The slow-spreading grin on Ronan’s face had a visceral effect on Adam. He could feel his own excitement, gripping the door handle, shoulders tensing. Adrenaline danced in Adam’s veins, and it danced in Ronan Lynch’s eyes, and it sparked in the air between them.

“Can you beat him?” Adam asked.

Ronan snorted.

The light turned green. Adam stopped breathing.

They raced through the stretch of green, air whipping across Adam’s face like the sting of icy snow. Ronan let out a maniacal laugh as they pulled ahead of the white car, and went even faster still. Adam could have been imagining it, but he heard a sharp curse from behind them as the Mitsu veered off. Ronan was still laughing as they sped down the street.

Even though Adam was a few minutes late for work and his boss actually did care that there was grease on his shirt, Adam had never had a more relaxing shift. It was like the adrenaline had burned away all the stress and anxiety living in his bones, and he felt he could breathe again.

And even if his encounter with Ronan had been a dream, even if it was some sort of heat-induced hallucination from loneliness or wanting, Adam would wake up the next morning and regret nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit short, but I think it's sweet? Idk. My fav losers beings losers together.


	3. Signposts From a Higher Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't get used to the fast updates; I will soon run out of already-written chapters! But for now, please enjoy the Gangsey being lovely together. :)

Adam just had one more delivery for the night before he could go home and sleep.

He had gotten home at 7 in the morning after working the overnight at the hardware store, with a full six hours of sleep ahead of him before he needed to get up for his shift delivering pizzas for Persephone’s Palace. But as soon as he tried lying in bed, he was plagued by a bout of insomnia, which he fully attributed to the street race with Kavinsky. His shift at the warehouse had been blissful peace, but as soon as Adam was alone in his room, his heart wouldn’t stop racing at the memory of Ronan’s wild eyes on the road, his hand shifting into gear, and the wind whipping Adam’s hair, the feeling that they could go on forever, driving at ridiculous speeds and feeling invincible.  

His heart raced just thinking about it. _Muscle memory_ , Adam told himself. Or anger, perhaps, at himself, for accepting the ride from Ronan Lynch when he _knew_ Lynch was potentially the worst possible decision of his life.

One more delivery, and then he could go home and sleep.

Three blocks away from the last delivery, there was a sad sputter of the engine and his boss’s shitbox of a car breathed its last ancient breath.

Goddamn it. This was karma or something. For having too much fun yesterday, karma was taking away everything good in Adam’s day today. It was punishment, he was sure of it.

He opened the hood of the car, but he knew there was no salvaging this piece of shit, not without a tow to Boyd’s. How many times had the car broken down already, and each time, Adam patched it crudely before going on his way? There was nothing else he could do for it now. Persephone would just have to get a new car. That was the end of it.

Adam slammed the hood of the car shut and grabbed the three pizzas from the back. He clicked his phone open, which was dead, because _of course it was_ , and took note of the address before kicking the tire of the shitty car.

The only saving grace was that it was a nice night. Just like yesterday, the purple sky made it seem like he was in a dream. Adam’s heart thumped contently despite karma's mission to make his day miserable. 

He found the address with ease—it was the only house for miles. The land was huge, with lush grass and rolling hills, a couple of large barns, a herds of cows, and an old wooden fence that surrounded the property. Adam should have been concerned about his safety—wasn’t this how horror movies began?—especially since he didn’t have his car and his phone was dead.

But as soon as he stepped past the fence, he felt this odd sense of calm come over him. Like yesterday, after riding around in Ronan’s car, arm hanging out of the open window, going way too fast.

Adam walked up the gravel driveway and froze when he saw the black beemer and the orange Camaro parked side-by-side. There were other cars too: a bright red Mustang that was about seven years out of date and a shiny silver Fisker that looked so expensive, Adam’s mouth went a bit dry. He was suddenly relieved that the shitbox had broken down when it did, because he didn’t think he could bear parking it in the gravel next to these four cars.

This had to be some sort of joke. Some sort of higher force was _pranking_ him right now. Or, these _hilarious_ other forces were sending him some flashing signs in the form of four extremely flashy cars that Adam should be with these strange people. It was message from fate, or karma, or God, or the universe. Gravity was pulling him in, and he would be a fool trying to resist.

Adam steadied his breath, which had become short and shallow, before approaching the door. He rang the bell, his heart racing, and he swore at himself because honestly, it was just like any another delivery.

An Asian boy opened the door, a wide smile on his face. “Pizza’s here!” he yelled behind him. He pulled out a few wads of cash and shoved them at Adam. “Keep the change, man, thanks!”

Adam gaped, surprise and disappointment flooding him at the sight of this boy who was neither Gansey, nor Blue, nor Noah, and definitely not Ronan.

“Thanks, um, is—”

“Cheng!” roared a voice from inside. Adam’s heart throbbed in his chest. _Muscle memory_ , he told himself. “I told you how much I don’t like people answering my door—”

Ronan ripped the door open, a snarl on his face aimed at the boy called Cheng. The pizza buyer was already disappearing into the house with his prize, laughing at Ronan’s face. Ronan turned his feral snarl towards Adam, but then he blinked and his face changed.

“Parrish?”

“Do you live here?” Adam said, then wished he hadn’t. “I mean, I’m not stalking you.”

Ronan blinked, then scowled lightly, crossing his bare arms over his chest. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Adam had a horrible feeling that he had somehow hallucinated the entire encounter yesterday and that Ronan still sort of hated him. He remembered the look on Ronan’s face when he had dropped Adam off at work—almost friendly, appraising Adam with a new sort of approval in his cold blue eyes.

“I wasn’t even supposed to be working today,” Adam said, angry at himself for thinking that maybe something had changed. He didn’t know why he felt he had to explain himself, but the words came tumbling out anyway. “Jessica called in sick yesterday, and I told her I’d cover for her, but had I known this was your house, I wouldn’t have—I mean, I don’t know if I would have—what I’m trying to say is that I have better things to do with my time than stalk hostile assholes who occasionally drive me around in their cars.”

Once his words ran out, Adam felt warm and sweaty and found it difficult to look at Ronan. The best he could do was look at a spot past Ronan’s shoulder, trying to inch his gaze closer to Ronan's face. It was this inability to look Ronan in the eye that he noticed a pink tinge creeping up Ronan’s neck like a blush was bleeding out of the hooks of his tattoo.

Seeing that made Adam bold and he managed to look at Ronan’s face. The snake-of-a-boy had that same look on his face from yesterday when Adam had fixed his car—confused, frustrated, oddly contemplative. The suggestion of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“You delivered the pizzas?”

Adam almost laughed. “No shit, asshole.”

“You work three jobs,” Ronan said, but it wasn’t a judgment or a sneer; it was just an observation. “Any others I should know about? Should I expect you to come around if I need help gardening or some shit?”

From anyone else it might have sounded like an insult, but there was this strange lilt in his voice, like Ronan was hoping the answer was yes—that Adam would come around if he needed help gardening or some shit.

“No,” Adam said, daring to stare at Ronan more openly. “Just the three.”

Looking as if he owned the world, Ronan leaned against the door jamb, bare arms crossed over his chest. “Just,” he said, snorting. “Did you walk here?”

“What?”

“Where the fuck is your car? Or your bike? You didn’t walk all the way from Persephone’s, did you?”

“No, of course I didn’t,” Adam said, his neck flushing for no reason. “My boss’s car broke down three blocks back. I just walked the rest of the way.”

Ronan’s mouth tilted up into a borderline offensive smile. Offensive because of how it made Adam feel things he should not. “And you couldn’t fix it? Couldn’t give it a full work-up?”

Adam refused to smile at the taunt. “Not without towing it to the shop. It’s a goddamn shitbox.”

“And did you call a tow truck?”

Adam exhaled and rubbed his forehead, feeling slightly hysterical as he let out a single laugh. “Fucking phone died.”

Ronan laughed, throwing his head back and banging his head lightly on the door frame. He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, and Adam had to look away from how endearing Ronan's clumsiness was.

“Jesus, bad fucking day, huh?”

It was gradually getting better.

“Do you need to borrow a phone?” Ronan asked when he was finished laughing at Adam’s expense.

“Please.”

Ronan patted his pockets. “Shit, I left it somewhere. Come in.”

Adam followed Ronan inside before he could think of a reason not to. He shut the door and kicked off his shoes, noting that Ronan was barefoot. The sound of voices and laughter got louder, and Adam suddenly felt like an intruder. Even if the fates or karma or some fiendish higher force was pushing Adam towards this gravitational system, it didn’t mean the gravitational system would want him there.

“Adam!” said a voice, and Blue got to her feet, wrapping Adam in a swift hug, which he was too surprised to return. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s the pizza guy,” Cheng said, mouth full of pepperoni. “You’re the pizza guy, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Adam said, tipping his hat that invariably told the world that he was the pizza guy. “Pizza guy, that’s me.”

“Well, come and have a slice,” Blue said.

“Adam Parrish!” Gansey exclaimed joyfully. He stood from the chair to give Adam a fist bump. “I knew I’d see you again. And the Pig is doing just fine. Haven’t had a breakdown since you looked at it.”

“Glad to hear it,” Adam said, nodding at Noah who was skateboarding around the room while eating a slice. He patted Adam’s head as he rounded the room, humming an 80s power ballad loudly and proudly.

“Bringer of pizzas and fixer of cars,” Blue said, grabbing his arm and pushing him into a couch. “What else can you do, Adam Parrish?”

“Um,” he said, glancing around for Ronan and his phone, who seemed to have disappeared. “I’m a pretty good party crasher.”

Blue smiled. “You don’t want pizza?”

“Not hungry. You?”

“I only eat yogurt and vegetables.”

Adam tried to hide his frown. “Okay.”

Blue grinned at him. “It’s eccentric, you can say it.”

“It’s eccentric.”

“Thank you.”

Something hard hit Adam in the chest and he looked down into his lap to see a cellphone.

“Ronan, don’t be an ass,” Blue said, standing to shove Ronan, who sat on the armrest on the other end of the couch.

“Get lost, maggot. There’s yogurt in the fridge.”

Blue scowled at him. “The kind I like?”

Ronan rolled his eyes with an exasperated set of his mouth, which obviously meant _duh, what do you take me for_? Blue grinned at him and kissed him on the head. He snarled at her and she laughed as she pranced into the kitchen.

“Thanks,” Adam said, grabbing the phone. “I’ll be right back.”

Adam escaped to the backyard, which was full of fireflies. He noted, with wonder, that there were even a few deer roaming around the premises—god, where the hell was he right now?—before dialing the number for the Palace.

Persephone picked up the phone. “Hello?” her voice was far away and dreamy, as always, but she seemed a bit more alert tonight than she usually was. Maybe it was because Adam felt like his nerves were on fire, illuminating everything else to seem more _alive_ than they normally were. “Adam?”

Adam paused. “How did you know it was me?”

Persephone laughed, but didn’t answer the question.

“I just finished the last delivery, but the shi—the car broke down again. I can’t fix it tonight, but if you get it towed to Boyd’s, I can probably salvage it. But since it was my last pie delivery for the night, I was hoping—”

“Adam, I’m so sorry, especially about the car, but I have three more deliveries here, and Juan is going to be late—”

Adam suppressed his groan. Juan had his own car, which he insisted on driving whenever he had deliveries, which Adam unquestionably envied. Juan was realistically the only person who could do deliveries now that the shitbox was dead. “But how am I supposed to deliver the pizzas without the shi—without a car?”

“I know this is unacceptable for me to ask, but perhaps you could use your bike.”

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Persephone—”

“Oh! Ronan Lynch! You’re at Ronan Lynch’s house, aren’t you?”

Adam’s eyes flew open. “What? How did you know that?”

“I have the delivery log right here.”

“I mean, how do you know _him_?”

“You are asking the wrong questions, Adam. Are you still there? May I speak to Blue?”

Adam glanced over his shoulder into the kitchen where Blue was eating from a yogurt tin, smiling at Gansey across the island and handing him the nearly empty yogurt cup. He accepted it and she reached over to bring Gansey into a disarmingly sweet kiss that made Adam look away, a strange sort of ache in his chest. Not necessarily for Blue, but for what they had.

“How do you know Blue?” he asked, wondering if this was the ‘right’ question.

“I don’t have time to explain it when there are pizzas in the oven. Please hand the phone to Blue.”

Adam did as she said, confusion making a mess of his brain. He wordlessly handed the phone to Blue, who looked up and accepted it without question as she put the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

Blue’s eyes lit up, but that was the only indication that she knew who Persephone was. She nodded once and hung up the phone before Adam could stop her.

“Gansey, I need the keys to the Camaro,” she said, outstretching her hand.

“What?” Gansey said.

Ronan had appeared on Adam’s deaf side, making him flinch in surprise. Ronan noticed, frowning, but didn’t say anything.

A flying black mass flew at Adam’s head, but this time he was ready for it. He stilled his shoulders so that the bird could perch there. Its beak was still dangerously close to his eyeball. They looked at each other, like they were both assessing the threat, before Chainsaw cawed once and relaxed. Adam exhaled.

Ronan was looking at him with that same look of frustrated confusion on his face, and Adam met his gaze.

“Adam needs to deliver three pizzas,” Blue said to Gansey, “but his car broke down, so Persephone asked me a favor. I need to borrow the Pig, Gansey.” Her tone demanded that no further questions be asked.

Gansey, refusing to be bullied by his girlfriend, asked two, clutching his keys to his chest. “Why can’t I drive? What if I want to come?”

“If Gansey’s going, so am I,” Noah said, expertly coming to a stop next to Adam, holding his skateboard in his hand.

“Me too!” Henry yelled from the living room where he was watching TV and the only one stuffing his face with pizza.

If Adam wasn’t already feeling entirely overwhelmed at this point, he would have been completely submerged under a tsunami wave when Ronan reached for Gansey’s keys, which prompted Gansey to immediately move away from him.

“I want to drive,” Ronan said, a fierce determination in his voice that stirred something in Adam’s gut. He caught Adam’s eye, and Adam was transported back in the passenger seat of the BMW, driving too fast, heart pounding too hard. But in this vision, it wasn’t the BMW rumbling beneath him—it was the Pig. Another thrill passed through him, and he knew Ronan saw it.

 _Muscle memory_ , Adam’s brain insisted, though the voice was becoming less and less convincing.

Ronan looked away. Adam exhaled shakily.

“Only in your dreams will you ever get your hands on these keys, Lynch,” Gansey said with a humorously kind tone, like an indulgent parent who couldn’t help being amused by their child’s recklessness.

“There isn’t enough space for all of you,” Blue said, snatching the keys from Gansey’s hand. “This isn’t some field trip—it’s _work_. What do any of you know about delivering pizzas?” That shut all of them up because every single one of them, with their fancy cars and big houses, had never done such a thing in their lives. Blue tilted her chin up in success. She grabbed Adam’s hand. “Come on, Adam, we’re going to be late.”

She pulled on his arm, disrupting Chainsaw on his shoulder, who cawed fervently as her sharp claws dug into Adam’s shoulder before flying off. “Look, I’ll just take my bike—it’s no problem—”

“No,” said Blue, Gansey and Ronan all at the same time. Adam’s words got caught in his throat, unsure of how he was going to argue all three of them at once. It was strangely disconcerting, all of them insisting that Adam accept a ride in Gansey’s car, and he wondered if now was the time he was going to be ritualistically murdered by a small girl in a bright orange Camaro.

They all saw him and Blue to the door. She hopped in the driver’s seat like she belonged there and patted the door affectionately, waiting for Adam to get in.

“Here,” Ronan said, prodding Adam in the arm with his cellphone. “Take this in case Sargent crashes. Call Gansey.”

“I can hear you, asshole!” Blue yelled from the car. Ronan waved his middle finger in the air.

“She’s not going to crash,” Gansey said, almost to himself. Then he glanced at Adam. “But you should still take the phone.”

Adam did not like handouts, but his phone was dead and he needed one for deliveries. Plus, he was going to give the phone back. Ronan wasn’t offering for him to keep it forever, surely, and if anything, taking the phone now was just a reason to see him again later to return it.

Adam accepted it and looked at Ronan one last time—he was developing a horrible habit and needed to break out of it now before it became an issue—but Ronan was already looking at him—wary, severe, savagely handsome.

Adam turned away with a wave at the four boys crowding the hallway and got into the passenger seat of the Pig.

“You have to slam the door.”

Adam did as she said, but the door bounced back open.

“ _Slam_ , Adam, with _force_.”

Adam tried again, aware that everyone was watching him. “Don’t be shy, you won’t break her!” Gansey yelled from the porch.

Adam successfully closed the door.

Blue revved the engine and backed out of the lot. The smell of gasoline inside the cab and the rumbling of the engine vibrating every part of his body was enough to convince him this was not a dream—this was real. Adam was going on a delivery run with this mysterious girl named Blue, holding a phone in his hand that belonged to a confusing snake-of-a-boy.

If Adam had not seen the clear infatuation between Blue and Gansey, he would have thought that Blue had manufactured a way to be alone with him. The thought made him uneasy.

“How exactly do you know Persephone?” Adam asked as they passed the broken down shitbox on the side of the road.

“She’s my aunt. Or something.”

Adam blinked. “She’s your _aunt_?”

“Or something,” Blue said, waving her hand as she drove. “Both she and my mom aren’t quite clear on the definitions, but she’s my aunt. Or something.”

Adam nodded, even though he was no closer to understanding.

“Where do you live, Adam? What school do you go to? Not Mountainview—I would have remembered a face like yours.”

Adam winced, but Blue didn’t notice. “No, Greenacres in the next town over.”

“Oh, is that where you live, too?”

“No, I just moved to Henrietta. I’ll probably be starting at Mountainview—is that what you called it?—in the fall. Senior.”

Blue turned to him, face bright and the Pig swerved slightly. Adam gripped his seat. “No way! Me too!”

Adam laughed. “I’m glad, but if we both want to make it that far, you should probably keep your eyes on the road.”

Blue scowled at him, but Adam sensed it was harmless. “You’re just as bad as the rest of them,” she said, before knocking his shoulder lightly with her fist. He experienced a wave of pleasure at the compliment and the action.

He and Blue were both going to be at Mountainview in the fall, which meant he would see her again, even after this pizza delivery. And if he was going to see Blue again, then he would most definitely see Gansey and Noah and Henry and Ronan again. Adam felt a blanket of relief settle over him. He had already guaranteed another encounter again by taking Ronan’s phone, but at least now the guarantee was further into the future. At least for another year. It was that thought that made a ridiculously happy thrill trickle down his spine. For once, he didn’t look at the move to Henrietta as such a terrible thing, even though it had been spurred by horrendous circumstances.

“So tell me, Adam Parrish, what do you know about rainforests?” Blue said, tilting her chin in Adam’s direction, but making sure her eyes were still on the road. Even from here, he could see the light in her eyes, the excitement in the curve of her mouth.

“Um, that they are going extinct.”

“Yes, exactly,” Blue said, stabbing the air with her finger. “Exactly. And what do you know about saving them?”

“Not nearly as much as I wish I did.”

Blue turned to face Adam with complete disregard for the road, but Adam didn’t bother to chide her—the look in her eyes was too compelling and beautiful to look away from. “That was the right answer, Adam Parrish.”

They stopped at the Palace, and Adam ducked inside to grab the pizzas. He said hi to Persephone, who he now knew as Blue’s aunt (or something), and she gave him a knowing look in reply. He couldn’t even bring himself to be mad at her for throwing these three additional pizzas on him when he was supposed to have the night off.

When Adam got back into the Camaro, still running, he slammed the door shut with force, and Blue told him about the rainforest. “We discovered a small section of the Amazon rainforest in Venezuela,” she said, hands animated as she talked, which Adam would have normally found endearing had she been doing it any other time than while driving. “We call it Cabeswater. It’s just easier than constantly referring to it as ‘our small section of the Amazon rainforest in Venezuela.’

“We discovered that this corporation called Greenmantle Ltd. is trying to gain access to this land so that they can develop it into some horrible tourist resort, so we’re trying to save it.

“We all took a trip down there last summer,” Blue explained, “and it was absolutely amazing. You would love it, Adam. We’re planning another trip for the end of the summer, if you want to come along.”

How much he wanted to. “That’s nice of you,” he said instead of making a clear statement that he could not and would not. The money he made from his three jobs was not meant to be used on indulgent trips to the Amazon, regardless of how noble the cause.

Blue glanced at him but otherwise didn’t say anything. “Anyway, there’s this special breed of raven that lives only in Cabeswater, which is why we’re trying to save it.”

Adam looked at her sharply, a question in his eyes.

Blue nodded, elated that Adam seemed to understand immediately. “Yes, Chainsaw is one of them. Massive thing, isn’t she? Anyway, we went to Cabeswater last year, to meet up with some of the locals there and assess the situation a bit better, and Ronan was having a miserable time because he’s a precious flower and wilts under any sort of weather hotter than room temperature.”

Adam cracked a smile, remembering Ronan’s irrational behavior when the A/C of his car broke down. Precious flower, indeed.

“So Ronan is being a grumpy wreck the entire time, but then one of these birds, these magnificent ravens, flies at his head—and just sort of flaps around him. The locals were baffled. No one understood what it was doing, just sort of hovering over Ronan’s head all the time, and we were seriously considering calling some sort of animal authority to help us figure out what this bird wanted. Did it think Ronan was a bird, too? Perhaps it was trying to intimidate him? But Ronan shook his head at all of our suggestions, and instead he said, ‘She’s cooling me down.’”

“Jesus Christ,” Adam said.

Blue nodded. “We haven’t even gotten to the craziest part yet,” she said as she pulled the car to a stop. “But that will have to wait until you deliver the last pizza.”

She didn’t cut the engine—“The Pig is horribly temperamental, so be quick,”—and Adam raced out of the car like he had for the past two pizza deliveries and collected his tip before racing back towards the car.

“We couldn’t take the bird with us, obviously,” Blue continued, flipping on the turn signal and continuing the story as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “And Ronan was understandably upset. It was like they had found each other and were being forced apart, you know? But Ronan had to leave her there and was pretty affected by it, if I’m being completely honest.

“Then, a few weeks after we got back, we were all hanging out in Ronan’s living room after dinner or something, I no longer remember what we were doing, and we heard this strange tapping on the window.”

Adam held his breath. “No.”

Smiling at his level of captivation, Blue nodded gravely. “Chainsaw was waiting for Ronan on his front porch.”

“She _flew_ here from Venezuela?”

Adam was unsure when Chainsaw had become a ‘she’ instead of ‘the bird,’ but now he could no longer think about Chainsaw without thinking of her as a _she_.

Blue smiled. “I told you it was crazy. But you believe me, which just confirms that you are the right person for the job.”

“What job is that?”

“Saving Cabeswater, Adam—haven’t you been paying attention?”

Adam didn’t have anything to say to that, so he just nodded and leaned back on the seat, Blue’s words floating around in his head. He thought about Ronan at his home. Though he had only been there for ten minutes, he had noticed a perceptible change about Lynch than the first couple times he’d seem him. A sort of stillness. Like the calm Adam had felt himself when he’d stepped onto the property like nothing could go wrong.

Before he realized where Blue was driving them, they were back at the Barns—Adam saw the sign hidden behind a brush of trees at the foot of the property line that he hadn’t noticed before. _Lynch Barns_ , it read, and Adam felt a strange sort of pressure in his chest.

Blue parked the Pig beside Ronan’s BMW. All of the boys were sitting on the porch waiting for them. Blue let out an irritated growl as money was exchanged between them all, with Noah being the clear victor and Ronan being the clear loser. Gansey, the intellectual that he was, had refrained from participating.

Trying her best to ignore all of this, Blue turned to Adam and gave him a marvellous smile that left him a bit dazed. “So what do you say, Adam Parrish? Will you help us save Cabeswater?”

There were five bright signposts in front of him—ridiculous orange, steely black, shiny silver, offensive red, and soothing, beautiful blue—telling him he belonged here. That he should do whatever was in his power to stay.

Adam held out his hand and accepted Blue’s handshake. How could he say no?

“Count me in.”


	4. Hellfire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare yourselves for bisexual Adam! Also, precious Noah!

Adam stayed at Ronan Lynch’s house for five hours after his last pizza was delivered even though fatigue settled on him like a warm blanket. Most of the time, Blue and Gansey took turns trying to prove who had the most extensive knowledge of their little patch of rainforest. Blue won, but Gansey had a very impressive looking notebook that he let Adam look through. Most pages were notes on the forest during their last trip, and suggestions for how to fight the Man. Whenever Adam suggested things to add or made a particularly interesting comment about something Gansey had written in the margins, Gansey rewarded Adam with wide grins and bright eyes.

“So do we credit Lynch for finding this particularly ace addition to the Save Cabeswater group, or do we credit Blue?” Henry, the owner of the shiny Fisker said.

Adam, who had been keeping Ronan in the corner of his eye all night, allowed himself a single moment to look at him from across the room. Ronan was slouched in a chair, arms folded across his chest, legs spread aggressively wide. He glanced at Adam, who forced himself not to react, before shrugging effortlessly.

“I reckon Parrish would have found us eventually.”

He said it nonchalantly, but Adam had just been feeling the same thing. Since he was already looking at Ronan, he kept his gaze until Ronan glanced up and looked away again.

Blue cleared her throat and Adam forced himself to look at her instead, but she was looking at Henry. “I take credit for actually being inviting though. If it had been left to Ronan, Adam would probably hate us.”

Ronan scoffed, slouching further into his chair. “Fuck off, Sargent.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

Adam felt vaguely uncomfortable about them talking about him like he wasn’t there. “I could never hate you guys,” he said.

Noah snorted. “You should have seen Ronan afterward, convinced that this hot-shot mechanic was out to get him.”

“Shut the fuck up, Noah,” Ronan hissed, tossing the remote control at Noah’s head. Noah skated safely out of the way and stopped right beside Adam.

Adam felt his ears getting hot. “The princess was throwing a fit about his broken A/C. I _was_ out to get him.”

Everyone laughed except for Ronan, who rolled his eyes and gave Adam the finger, but it wasn’t delivered with much malice.

“And now?” Noah asked, nudging Adam’s foot with his skateboard. “Still out to get him?”

Ronan was purposefully not looking at Adam, so Adam purposefully did not look back. “We’ll see.”

It was then that he checked the time and nearly had a heart attack. He had planned on doing some studying for SAT tests tonight, but now that was clearly not possible. He stood and looked outside, saw the dark skies and swore under his breath, remembering that he didn’t have a ride back home.

“I should go,” Adam said, rubbing his chin uncertainly.

“I’ll give you a ride,” Gansey said as Blue jumped up, already ready to leave. “Won’t we, Jane?”

“Of course, I don’t mind.”

“That’s okay, honestly—”

“No, I’ll take him,” Noah said, grabbing Adam’s arm almost possessively. Adam noted again that Noah was frighteningly cold, which was a welcome relief to his suddenly warm face. “You already got a turn, Blue!”

“Is this going to become a thing?” Henry asked, standing to his feet. “Us fighting over who’s going to drive Parrish home? If it is, I’m am totally okay with this. I want to drive Parrish home!” Henry said, grabbing Adam’s other arm.

“Count me out,” Ronan said, still lounging in his chair. “I’m staying right here.”

“Guys, I can walk—”

“No,” said everyone.

Adam sighed.

“You’re going to have to pick, Parrish,” said Henry, yanking on his arm. “Or make us fight to the death. I’m okay with that, too.”

The faster Adam chose a driver, the faster he could get home. Maybe he could get in an hour of studying before he went to bed. He looked at Gansey and Blue, and decided that Gansey was already driving Blue home, so he was out. And Henry’s Fisker was too alarmingly shiny, which was intimidating. But Noah’s seven-year-old Mustang, though it was still a Mustang, was seven years old. A bit less intimidating.

“Thanks, Noah,” Adam said.

Noah grinned at him. “Where am I taking you?”

“Do you know the church St. Agnes on Barnes Street?”

Noah’s eyes widened and he looked at Ronan. Adam did too, out of reflex, but Ronan had a curiously blank face.

“Yep,” Noah said. “You live near there?”

Adam shifted uncomfortably, wondering what that look was about, but not uncomfortable enough to ask. “Yeah. Really close by.”

“Great,” Noah said, skateboarding out of the hallway. “Let’s go, Parrish!”

Adam said goodbye to Henry, thanked Blue and Gansey for letting him hijack the Camaro for his deliveries, and nodded once at Ronan, who nodded back.

Noah’s car was a time-capsule. As soon as the engine started, Blink-182 blasted out of the radio, CDs falling out of the glove compartment, a picture of Britney Spears in a pink dress hanging out of the passenger sun visor.

“You’ve got a lot of freckles,” Noah said to Adam as they drove towards St. Agnes.

Adam shrugged. “You’ve got something smudged on your cheek.”

“Birthmark. Do you know what’s weird about birthmarks? People use them to identify someone if they die. So they really should be called ‘deathmarks,’ don’t you think? Everything goes back around, doesn’t it?” Noah said with a jovial smile. “Were you born with all those freckles?”

Again, Adam shrugged. He was a bit taken aback by the liveliness of Noah’s personality, like a roaring bonfire. Emitting both heat and light. “No, probably not.”

“You know who doesn’t have freckles but probably needs freckles? Ronan.”

Adam wanted to laugh, but Noah looked completely serious. “What do you mean?”

“I thought freckles were a result of getting a lot of sun. You don’t get sunburnt, do you? It’s because of the freckles. Ronan just turns into a tomato. But I bet if he had some freckles, he wouldn’t burn, you know?”

Adam tried imagining Ronan with freckles and he couldn’t. “I don’t think it works that way.”

Noah couldn’t stop smiling, but at what, Adam didn’t know. “Maybe you should give him a few of your freckles. Stop him from burning.”

Adam stared at Noah, trying to figure out what he was really saying, since the surface meaning was obviously nonsense. But Noah just cackled, a bit maniacally, as they pulled up to St. Agnes.

“Where to now?”

“Here is fine,” Adam said, opening the door. “It’s just that building over there,” Adam said, pointing to one of the residential buildings next to the church that wasn’t his.

“Cool,” Noah said, tapping his hands on the wheel. “Did you know that Ronan goes to this church? Every Sunday.”

Adam frowned. “Are you shitting me right now?”

“I shit you not.”

Adam searched for a lie, but Noah’s face was an open sky, free of clouds. “Hm.”

He wasn’t quite sure what to do with this information, but he filed it away anyway as he stepped out of the car. “Thanks for the ride,” Adam said. “I owe you.”

“You owe me a piggyback, Parrish,” Noah said, blasting his early 2000s punk rock and nodding his head along.

Adam waited until Noah had driven a long way off and climbed up to his apartment above the church.

He washed his face and stared at himself in the mirror for the first time in a while. It was startling to look at himself and not see the remnants of his father’s fists marking him somehow. It made him anxious. What would happen if Robert Parrish saw him again, this clean-faced and unmarked for once? Would it enrage him?

 _Don’t think about it,_ Adam told himself. _He’s not going to find you. It’s been three weeks. He knows where you work. If he wanted to find you, he would have come already. You’re free. They don’t want you._

Adam exhaled and lay down on his bed, too exhausted to do any homework tonight. He had a shift in the morning at Boyd’s, and then another overnight at the hardware store. He needed sleep, but his mind kept going to the Barns, to these strange kids with a dream to save a rainforest and its strange population of massive ravens. He felt a smile tug at his lips despite the anxiety clawing at his chest. And with that smile came thoughts of Ronan.

Adam knew he was bisexual. He had known since he was 14, though at that age, he hadn’t known what to call it when he’d gotten himself off imagining one of the older boys in the trailer park. He had been confused and ashamed about it for days afterwards, but in the face of more urgent stress—namely, trying to avoid being hit by his dad for some imagined crime—he hadn’t had time to fully appreciate the ramifications of his sexuality. Now that he was free from his father— _he’s not going to find you, he’s not going to hurt you again_ —Adam allowed himself to think about it.

Adam was attracted to Ronan Lynch. There was no denying that. It was the street racing, and the savage lines of his face, and the way he swore in a way that sounded like horrible musical curses. Ronan Lynch was attractive.

Adam opened his eyes and looked around. The world hadn’t ended. Hellfire wasn’t raining down from the skies to condemn him to a life of purgatory. Adam was attracted to girls _and_ boys, and the world was still spinning.

If he was being honest with himself, he was a little bit attracted to Gansey as well, but purely from the standpoint of admiring a beautiful person who was obviously taken care of. You wanted to be friends with him because he was successful and powerful and good-looking, but Adam didn’t feel it extending past that. It was the same with Blue. Though she probably wasn’t as materialistically rich as Gansey, she was an emotional philanthropist; the kind of person who had known lots of love and knew how to take that and turn it outward. She was kind and lovely and made you feel like she could see a part of you that no one else could appreciate.

And then there was Ronan. Definitely not kind, much rougher around the edges, and was the human equivalent of a barbed wire fence. He was physically attractive, yes, and certainly powerful and successful like Gansey, but there was something _else_ that drew Adam towards him. Fucking gravity and all the shit.

Adam considered all he knew about Ronan Lynch, compiling a list as if that would shed more light on the situation.

Ronan hated heat. He was probably violent, if the scars on his face and arms were any indication. Gansey had thought it was a plausible scenario that he, or someone named Declan, had ended up in the hospital because of whatever they had gotten up to. Adam’s gut roiled and withered at that thought, but he couldn’t ignore that aspect of Ronan, even if it made him feel a bit sick. Ronan was a fighter.

Ronan liked to street race. He was familiarly acquainted enough with the asshole named Kavinsky. He had a pet raven who flew across countries to get to him. (Adam noted that there was something extremely attractive about people who were good with animals. Though this situation wasn’t exactly the same thing as someone cuddling with a dog, the principle still applied. If an animal liked you, Adam believed it said something about the gentleness of one’s soul. Ronan was a fighter, but a bird had flown _across countries_ for him. So what the hell did it all mean?) He lived on a farm that felt like a mythical land in the middle of Henrietta. He went to church every Sunday. He listened to god-awful music that rattled Adam’s bones. He swore like nothing Adam had ever heard before. It was enchanting.

Adam sighed and turned onto his side, curling his hands into loose fists against his chest. His mind was a maelstrom of thoughts that couldn’t be tamed. He tried imagining that he suddenly had loads of money and that, at the end of the summer, he would accompany Blue, Gansey, Henry, Noah and Ronan to the Amazon to help save the home of a rare species of ravens. The fantasy was so ridiculous, he laughed out loud at himself for wanting it so badly. He curled into a tighter ball, even as he continued to indulge in his imagination. He imagined Ronan getting all flustered because he couldn’t bear the heat, kicking some rainforest tree in his hissy fit. And that made Adam laugh harder.

God, he was already so far gone, and he’d only known these people for a week.

In his mind, Ronan began to swear about how hot it was, and then his swearing shifted to another topic. The tone changed from irritation to something like pleasure. Drawn out, whispered secretly. The swearing was just as vile and creative as ever, but in Adam’s mind, it was black poetry, thorns on a lush black rose.

Adam turned his face into his pillow, partially muffling his heavy breathing, and dragged his hand down his stomach. He slipped it into the waistband of his boxers.

Fuck.

He imagined Ronan swearing in pleasure, moaning Adam’s name.

 _Fuck_.

He imagined Ronan’s broad shoulders and Adam sucking on his collarbone, licking the black ink of his tattoo. He imagined what the rest of it looked like, a living thing as it moved with Ronan’s muscles.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He imagined Ronan’s hands in Adam’s hair, breathless gasps against his skin, muscles clenching around him, drawing him closer, holding him in his grip, white knuckles on a steering wheel, adrenaline burning through his veins, Ronan’s voice groaning out curses—

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—

Adam lay in his bed for a while after he finished, breathing heavily and trying to calm down his pulse. God. That was—Jesus Christ. He squeezed his eyes shut. There was no denying that Adam was attracted to Ronan Lynch. That he wanted to do a lot of things with Ronan Lynch that was not strictly allowed between two friends.

When Adam finally found the strength to move, he took a shower and returned to bed. His thoughts quieted and he fell asleep. 

That night, he dreamed of ravens.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, but!!!!! Noah! And whether you're in the boat that it was okay that Stiefvater didn't "label" Adam or not, I decided I wanted to. Hope everyone's okay with that. And if you're not, well. I'm sorry? 
> 
> It looks like this fic is mostly going to be Adam having conversations in cars. And Ronan telling everyone to fuck off affectionately. I think that that is where this fic is going. (Hahaha joking, but maybe not really.)
> 
> Thanks to everyone leaving comments, they definitely make my day brighter and motivate me to write faster. What are some things you'd like to see? Can't say I will 100% include them, but I'm curious to know your thoughts.


	5. Parishioner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of Adam’s abuse and lying about it. Also some questionable behavior by an adult who does not disclose said abuse to authorities on Adam's request, so if you think that would upset you, please read at your own risk.

Two days passed without Adam hearing from Cabeswater’s would be saviors, but he still had Ronan’s phone. He had forgotten to return it before he left that night.

Ronan's phone buzzed all the time. Mostly missed calls from Declan—the person Ronan could have potentially put in the hospital—a few calls from someone named Matthew, a couple from Gansey and Noah, and a few text messages from Henry, which were mostly bad jokes meant to irritate Ronan, Adam thought. Blue texted once too, a simple text that read: _Asshole. :)_

Adam had the whole day free to get some SAT studying done, which was a rarity for a Sunday, but he didn’t think he’d be able to focus on anything until he returned Ronan’s phone. He couldn’t figure out a plan that didn’t make him seem insanely creepy. Would it be inappropriate if Adam showed up at the Barns unannounced to return it?

It was one o’clock in the afternoon and he still hadn’t opened a single textbook. Adam was working up the nerve to go over to Ronan’s house while his stomach grumbled unhappily, determined not to be ignored no matter how hard Adam tried. Maybe he would splurge and buy lunch on the way home from the Barns.

Adam paced for a bit, glancing at his books and wishing they were more of a distraction. He glared at them for a long time, willing them to be more interesting, until a harsh knock on the door interrupted the extremely productive use of his time.

Adam had a moment of panic that Robert Parrish had found him.

_That’s ridiculous. He doesn’t know where you live. He couldn’t have found you here. Maybe at work, but not here._

Adam, pulse pounding, opened the door.

“I’m not stalking you.”

Adam blinked, his pulse racing even harder now, but for an entirely different reason than before. His skin was warm, when a second ago it had been clammy and cold. “Ronan?”

Ronan stood in his doorway, frowning slightly with one eyebrow raised. He was wearing a wrinkled button-down shirt, untucked, with a tie hanging loosely around his neck. Adam was so entranced for a second, he could only stare at the exposed patch of skin above below Ronan's collarbone.

“What are you doing here?” was Adam’s first thought. Then, “How did you know I live here?”

Ronan lifted the flat box in his hand. “I’m delivering pizza,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Adam’s stomach growled loudly when the smell wafted into his nose. Ronan pushed past him into the room and deposited the pizza on the desk as he looked around. Adam flushed at the sad bones of his apartment, made even worse by the fact that he had experienced the sort of opulence Ronan was used to. This room probably looked as hungry and pathetic as he was.

But Ronan didn’t say anything as he sat at Adam’s desk, completely at ease with welcoming himself into a stranger's home, and opened the box of pizza. The smell was almost offensively strong, making Adam’s mouth taste horrible with saliva.

“How did you know I lived here?” Adam repeated, still standing by the open door like an idiot. Since Ronan did not look like he was leaving anytime soon, Adam shut the door and took a tentative step towards the desk. He glanced at his unmade bed, hands sweaty from the irrational fear that Ronan would look at it and somehow know what Adam had been thinking about the past couple days.

“About once a month, the church has a lunch outside,” Ronan said between mouthfuls of pizza instead of answering Adam’s question. He gestured out the window. “Have a look for yourself.”

Adam looked out the window and saw that there was indeed a small crowd of people standing around the parking lot, eating pizza from the same boxes Ronan had brought with him.

Ronan continued. “After Declan and I disrupted the activities one too many times with our ‘ungodly behavior’, Father Grey let me stay up here to eat my pizza in peace. But today, he told me I couldn’t use my escape because someone had rented out the space three weeks ago. And then he asked me if I knew someone named Adam Parrish.”

The blood left Adam’s face. The last thing he wanted to do today was explain why he was living here alone when he wasn’t even 18 years old yet, and Ronan was looking at him like he expected Adam to say something. When Adam refused to speak, Ronan shrugged and ate another slice of pizza.

“You want some? They’re just giving them out for free outside.”

Adam hesitated. The smell was so overpowering, and Ronan had already heard his stomach growling, so Adam couldn’t exactly lie and say he wasn’t hungry. Plus, the church was giving them out for free, right? He could easily go down there himself and grab his own, but why bother when there was a full box right here?

Adam walked forward and took a slice, holding it in his hand for a moment and letting the grease drip down his fingers before he took a bite.

God, it was really good pizza. Not from Persephone’s Palace. No offense to his boss, but pizza wasn’t really her forte. Adam had had a taste of her apple pie once though, and that had been an other-worldly experience. She should open a pie shop instead.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Ronan said with a smirk as he looked around the studio again. “Cozy.”

With pizza in his stomach, Adam was feeling far more generous and forgiving than if he hadn’t eaten anything. His vastly-improved mood prompted this response: “Fuck you, Lynch.”

Ronan’s smirk grew wider and he kicked the leg of Adam’s pathetic desk.

Almost everything Adam had gotten was from the flea market, which Father Grey had helped him pay for and bring upstairs. He honestly owed that man so much, more than he liked to admit, and didn’t dare complain about the state of his furniture. It served Adam’s needs, even if Ronan found it distasteful. Fuck Ronan Lynch. This shitty furniture was Adam’s and he loved and hated it just like every other shitty thing he owned.

Adam remembered when he had first arrived on this side of Henrietta. He had biked here in the middle of the night with a bag full of clothes and school books that he had shoved together hastily in the dark. He was bleeding from a nasty cut on his brow, had bruised ribs and a horrible ringing in his left ear that he knew was a sign of something permanent. Adam had stopped at the church because his legs simply wouldn’t pedal anymore, and because it hurt to breathe, and because his eye was flooded with blood, and because his ear felt like a high frequency bomb was about to explode in his head. When Father Grey found him gasping and crying on the steps, he offered to stitch up Adam’s face, but the rest he would have to get professional help. In that moment, Adam hadn't questioned why a priest would be qualified to stitch up someone’s face because it didn’t seem like an emergency—but now Adam found it a bit suspicious.

Adam had let the priest take him to the hospital on two conditions: that he didn’t call the police or child services, and that he convinced the doctor that this happened from a bad bike accident. Because priests didn’t lie, the doctors and nurses believed Father Grey’s story that Adam had wiped out in front of the church and Adam was released without further questions.

Father Grey paid the hospital bill. (“From the church funds. It’s for helping people in need, and you are clearly in need, son. Don’t argue. God will strike you down.”) He made Adam sit in a church pew and tell him everything that happened. Grey promised that he wouldn’t alert the authorities unless Adam was planning on hurting himself or others.

Adam had never been religious and had a fair amount of suspicion for people who dropped a few coins in the offering basket every week for some imaginary power in the skies—but those coins had just paid for his treatment and Father Grey had already done more for him than his parents ever had.

(And religious or not, Adam didn’t feel comfortable lying while sitting in a church pew.)

Adam broke down and told the priest everything, starting from the first time Robert Parrish hit him, until the most-recent conversation and beating that made Adam run away. His father had taken offence that Adam wanted to go to university instead of working in the car yard in the trailer park. That had earned him a deaf left ear, three bruised ribs, and five stitches above his eyebrow.

By the end of the explanation, Father Grey looked him straight in the eye. “You’re 17, son, and I respect that you’re not quite an adult as society arbitrarily defines adulthood. Yet, I see that you have experienced more than your fair share and I believe that you know what is in your best interest. I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you want, but I also believe that you should speak up. God punishes those who sin against him, but it doesn’t hurt to get justice here on Earth as well. When you’re ready to tell someone, I will be there to testify on your behalf. I am also not legally responsible for you. This is not an orphanage. If the authorities come for you, I will lie and tell them that you proved you were 18. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Adam nodded, tears and snot running down his face. He was learning a lot about priestly behavior that night, and apparently that included lying and stitching injuries. 

“Do you have a place to stay?”

Father Grey set him up in the apartment upstairs. He didn’t care that Adam was 17, he didn’t make him return to the trailer park, and he didn’t call the police or child services. It was probably illegal to allow Adam to stay here because he was a minor, but Father Grey told him to focus his worries on how he was going to pay the rent every month because the offering plate was not going to.

Knowing that Father Grey also had a relationship with Ronan was a bit unsettling, but he knew that Grey would never go back on his word. He wouldn’t tell anyone about Adam’s situation, especially not some troublesome tattooed kid in his flock.

“Parrish. _Hey_ , Parrish.”

Adam looked at Ronan and realized he had just zoned out of the conversation. “What?”

“Jesus. I said, do you want more pizza?”

Adam numbly took another slice and scarfed it down, wondering how long he had been absent. “Thanks.”

Ronan was still looking at him from across the room. “Is everything all right with you?” Ronan was frowning, his tone a little harsh like he was annoyed at Adam’s distance, but Adam heard the concern beneath the words.  

Adam shrugged and took another slice of pizza before Ronan could offer. “Of course. There’s pizza. What could be wrong?”

Ronan didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push it either. “Do you mind if I stay here a while? At least until Declan leaves.”

Adam blinked, reminded of Ronan’s phone, which sat plainly on Adam’s desk. Ronan didn’t seem to notice it at all. “Who is Declan?”

“My piece-of-shit older brother.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “You don’t have brothers, do you? Then don’t fucking judge. You don’t know how shitty they can be.”

“I’m not judging,” Adam said, a bit taken aback that Ronan would think he, of all people, could be judgmental about having family problems. As if Adam had it any better. “I’m just...I don’t know. Surprised, I guess. I always wondered what it would be like to have siblings.”

But Adam never _wished_ he had siblings because it would be cruel to want someone else to suffer that same thing he did, even if he sometimes wondered. Would it be easier or harder to have someone know him and his problems that well?

“He’s an asshole,” Ronan explained, and it took Adam a moment to remember they were talking about Ronan’s brother Declan, not Adam’s father. “Nothing surprising about that. Even Father Grey thinks so—why do you think he takes pity on me and lets me come up here to avoid Declan? Because Grey, and everyone else who meets my brother, knows that Declan is an asshole.”

Ronan’s phone buzzed from Adam’s desk and both of them looked at it. 

“Sorry,” Adam said automatically, mildly embarrassed at having been caught with the phone. Ronan didn’t even look concerned that someone had had his phone for three days. He didn’t even look like he’d missed it. “I forgot to give it back. I was planning on stopping by later.”

Ronan, unfazed, leaned forward to see who it was. He sighed and picked up the phone. “Matthew. Nah, I’m still here. No, I’m upstairs with Parrish. He’s the hunchback who lives in the church towers.” Ronan shot Adam an amused look at his own joke. “Uh huh. Nope, no fucking way. Have fun. Don’t fucking swear, Matthew. Bye.”

Adam eyed the three pieces of pizza left, trying not to look at Ronan.

“My younger brother, Matthew,” Ronan answered Adam’s silent question. “But he’s nothing like Declan.”

Adam nodded like he understood what it was like to have brothers when he didn’t. He was still sitting awkwardly on his unmade bed.

Prior to now, Adam had never felt the urge to flirt with someone so bad. He had always admired from afar, but never dared get any closer in case anyone discovered evidence of Robert Parrish’s fists. But Ronan sat there in front of him, on the other side of the room, but still closer than he usually allowed people to get. Adam knew he shouldn’t toy with Ronan just because he was free of his father—that was cruel and unfair.

But Adam didn’t feel like he was toying. If he did flirt to test the waters, it wouldn’t be a throwaway comment—he only ever done things if he intended to follow through.

He knew it could never feasibly work between them—boy from the wrong side of the Henrietta tracks and Prince of Lynch Barns? Anyone would be able to see the flaws in that concept. But...

Adam shouldn’t flirt.

But he wanted to. So bad.  

“If I’m the hunchback, does that make you Esmeralda?”

Ronan’s face turned a revealing shade of pink. The rush of adrenaline made Adam want to do something stupid and reckless, like driving donuts around an empty parking lot with loud EDM music pounding through his feet and in his chest. Or riding a moving dolly behind Ronan's BMW and not even regretting the scabs after. 

“Fuck off, Parrish.”

Adam turned to make his bed half-heartedly in an attempt to hide his grin. What he really wanted to do was see how long he could make that blush last, but he didn’t want to push his luck. He had done enough for today; he didn’t want Ronan to think he was playing with him because he was bored. If he was really going to do this ( _It would never work, anyone could see that_ ), then he was going to do it properly.

“So, is it okay if I stay?” Ronan said as Adam finished smoothing out his blanket. “Do you have to leave for work or something?”

Adam tried not to reveal his feelings about this turn of events. Feelings that were mainly pleased. Part of his plan of returning Ronan’s phone had included ways in which he could lengthen his time with Ronan. (He shouldn’t, but he had already set the stone rolling. And Adam always followed through.)

“I don’t have to go anywhere, but I do have work to do here.”

Ronan’s eyes widened. “ _Four_ jobs?”

Adam gestured at the open books on his table. “Studying. Basically a fourth job. You can stay if you want, but I can’t entertain you.” Adam wondered if that sounded weird. “Or whatever,” he added, just in case.

Ronan looked at the books and lifted one of the pages like someone would pick up a used diaper to toss into the trash. “It’s summer, Parrish. The fuck are you studying for?”

Adam sighed and made a movement to get Ronan out of his chair. Ronan stood, closer than Adam anticipated, and they both shuffled around each other as if they were standing in a hallway that was too small. They could have both taken a step back, given each other a berth like normal people, but neither of them did. Ronan's arm brushed against Adam's hip and it felt like a promise for the future. 

Ronan moved to the bed and Adam sat down in the seat.

“No wonder Gansey was so taken with you,” Ronan muttered. “Studying in the summer, for Christ’s sake.”

Adam scowled at Ronan, who smirked and lay out on Adam’s bed, completely comfortable with calling this place home. Adam supposed this was because it had been Ronan’s hideout before Adam moved in, but Ronan didn’t seem to mind that Adam had hijacked his escape. It was startling and a bit intimidating and also made something flicker pleasantly in Adam’s chest. This, he noted, was definitely a happy feeling. It felt a bit like after Ronan beat Kavinsky in the street race, and Ronan kept driving, so far that Adam was late for work—that moment, and this connection, was something that belonged only to them. 

As Adam opened his books, he realized it was a mistake to let Ronan stay. He shifted his chair away from the sight of Ronan stretched out on his bed, trying desperately hard not to imagine it in his head. He looked at the pages of his textbook and forced himself to think about math.

Isosceles triangles and acute angles. He tried not to think about the isosceles triangle of Ronan’s torso, broad shoulders and narrow hips. He tried not to think about the acute angle Ronan's body made with the wall as he leaned against it.

“Getting much studying done with that glazed look in your eye?”

Adam shot him a glare and suppressed a tremor when Ronan shot him a devilish smirk in reply.

Jesus fuck. Did Ronan know what Adam was thinking? Could he tell how much Adam was attracted to him? More importantly, was Ronan attracted to men? Perhaps it was hope that made Adam think so, but he could have been wrong. Ronan would surely do well with anyone he set his sights on, even if he was a bit scary. Why would he ever pick Adam?

_Adam, get a fucking grip. Jesus Christ._

“Did Sargent mention that we’re going on a trip at the end of the summer? To Cabeswater?”

“Mhm,” Adam mumbled, not trusting himself to speak. He stared at his books. The words blurred. 

“You should come,” Ronan said, which prompted Adam to look up. The casual tone of his suggestion made it seem like Ronan was offhandedly suggesting it just to be kind and inclusive (which Adam already knew Ronan _not_ to be), but Adam thought he heard more. Something like _hope_.

_Listen to yourself, Parrish. Jesus Christ._

“You hardly know me,” Adam said automatically, which was what he _should_ have said to Blue yesterday when she had mentioned it. “You could be inviting a serial killer on vacation.”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “It’s not going to be a fucking vacation. Unless you think being pistol-whipped by a she-devil environmentalist while burning in humidity hell is relaxing. Do you know how hard Blue made us work while we were there the last time? And did I mention the humidity? Not a vacation.”

“Wow, you’re certainly making a great case for this trip. Sounds like perfect conditions for me to kill y’all—you know, if I was a serial killer.”

Ronan grinned, a bit wildly, and it made Adam’s mouth dry. “Nah, you’re not a killer, Parrish,” he said. “When would you have time to fit that in with your three jobs and moonlighting as a professional nerd?”

Adam scoffed. “I have excellent time management skills.”

“Man, are you _trying_ to convince me you’re a serial killer? Because if you are, just come out and say it. I can handle the truth.”

Adam looked at Ronan dead in the eye. “Ronan, I’m a serial killer.

“Knew it. Listen, come to the Amazon with us. You can murder me in my sleep instead of the heat killing me slowly. It’s a win-win, really.”

Adam laughed and Ronan blinked in surprise, then offered a smile so small, Adam nearly missed it. It felt like he had been struck by lightning. He memorized the look of it and held it in his chest. The smile had been such a change from Ronan’s usually sneering face, but it somehow fit his features all the same. Adam immediately wanted to see it again.

Ronan sat up from his slouched position and leaned forward on the bed, elbows resting on his knees and hands folded together. “At least think about it.”

The sincerity in Ronan’s plea disarmed Adam. His only remaining defence was sarcasm. “The killing you part?”

Ronan arched an eyebrow.  

Adam swallowed thickly and nodded, just to be done with the conversation.

He thought it was supremely unfair that both Ronan and Blue had asked this of him—Blue, who was not like the Aglionby boys, who did not have mounds of money to throw idly on a trip to another country; and Ronan, who knew about all three of Adam’s jobs and had seen the state of his current living situation. It was supremely unfair because they were the two most likely people to have sway over him.

Ronan stood from the bed, stretching his arms over his head and exposing a bit of his abdomen in the process. Adam glanced at the sliver of skin, wondering if the tattoo extended towards the front. It didn’t, but that wasn’t necessarily a disappointing discovery.

“I’m going to risk running into Declan,” Ronan said, heading for the door. “If you’re going to be studying all day.”

Adam could have let Ronan leave, but something told him he wouldn’t be any more productive if Ronan left now. He stood from the desk, nearly knocking his chair over in the process. Ronan paused at the door, waiting for Adam to say something.

“Um.” Adam felt his face go red. He steadied himself and the chair by putting his hand on it, all casual. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

Ronan’s smile was a snake, wrapping itself around Adam’s heart and squeezing. “Why? Want to play hooky, Parrish?”

Adam met Ronan gaze, letting the corner of his mouth tilt up. “Maybe.”

Ronan opened the door. “Can’t, got other shit to do.”

Disappointment was a cruel thing; living, breathing, brutal.

Ronan grinned. His laughter was genuine and boyish, making Adam want to laugh even when he was the one being teased. “Just fucking with you, Parrish. Let’s go.”

Following him out of the apartment, Adam shoved Ronan with his shoulder. “Asshole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've googled the definition of the title of this chapter so that we can all mutually agree that it is a brilliant chapter title.
> 
> PARISHIONER: an inhabitant of a church OR; a person who belongs to a parish (or in this case, a person who belongs to a *PARRISH* = a PARRISHIONER?) 
> 
> *mike drop*
> 
> #PynchWordPlay #PynchForever #ImNotSorry
> 
> P.S. This is the last chapter that I have prepared, so the updates will be much slower after this. You'll have to wait for Adam Parrish's Day Off but it will be worth it because Opal makes an appearance. Yay!


	6. Gelato and Gemstones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things featured in this chapter:  
> —Opal  
> —Angst  
> —Tears  
> —More angst  
> —Aurora  
> —Ice cream  
> —Murder  
> —Squash  
> —Handholding  
> —Did I mention angst?

“Of course _this_ would be your idea of playing hooky,” Ronan muttered as he leaned against his car, arms crossed testily over his chest.

Adam had asked Ronan to drive him to Boyd’s. He had called a tow-truck driver who owed him a favor while they were in route, asking him to bring Persephone’s shitbox from where Adam had left it a few days ago to the shop. Persephone hadn’t asked for it to be fixed yet because every other delivery worker had their own car. But Adam had a shift in two days, and if he wasn’t planning on using his bike, he had to do something about the shitbox.

“I asked you what you wanted to do first,” Adam said as he opened the hood. “And all of your ideas sounded like creative ways to get ourselves into the hospital—not valid hooky suggestions.”

“How is building a ramp and driving the car off it going to put us in the hospital?” Ronan said. “The destination was the moon, Parrish. We could have been on the _moon_ by now.”

Adam laughed. The playful tone of Ronan’s voice felt like Adam had just unwrapped an unexpected present. Layer by layer, Adam wanted to unwrap the different parts of Ronan’s personality.

(He also wanted to unwrap, layer by layer, other aspects of Ronan, but that was an idea for another time.)

“What’s the model of this car anyway?” Ronan said, frowning dismissively. “A Hondayota?”

Adam surveying the innards of the shitbox. “You’re only allowed to judge if you can name three parts of an engine.”

Ronan’s silence was enough satisfaction for Adam that he didn’t feel the need to rub it in anymore. But he did send a self-satisfied smirk over his shoulder because Adam wasn’t perfect.

Multiple parts had to be replaced. Adam made a mental list of things as Ronan appeared on his deaf side, making Adam shuffle back in surprise. He coughed, hoping Ronan hadn’t noticed, but of course he had.

“What’s the damage?” Ronan asked. It took Adam a long moment to realize that he was speaking about the car, not Adam’s ear.

As Adam rattled off the things he needed, Ronan’s expression glazed over the longer the list became.

“And I’ll probably need to buy some wood to build that ramp to the moon.”

Ronan turned his head sharply. “What?”

Adam laughed, shoving Ronan in the shoulder. “So you were paying attention.”

Scowling, Ronan shoved him back. “What the hell is this? I didn’t know I was in _class_ , Mr. Parrish—Jesus.”

Adam slammed the hood of the shitbox. “I won’t be able to get any of this done until Persephone approves the changes, so we can leave it for now.”

Ronan leaned against the car, tapping the metal hood with his knuckles. “So what’s next on Adam Parrish’s Day Off? Maybe the library? Or I can drive you to school so you can reserve the desk at the front of the class before September—”

“Or, you could teach me to drive stick.”

Ronan raised his eyebrows, pausing a moment to consider before he shook his head in rueful disbelief. “I still can’t believe you know so much about cars but don’t know how to drive stick.”

“And I can’t believe you drive like a Formula One racer and can’t name three parts of an engine.”

Ronan rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the hood of the Hondayota. “I don’t need to know the names of organs in my digestive system in order to eat food like a champ, do I?”

Adam had no response because damn, that was a good point.

Opening the door of the passenger seat of his BMW, Ronan tossed Adam his keys. “Sink or swim, asshole. Get in.”

 

#

 

After two solid hours of driving, Adam felt he had a decent grasp on driving manual.

After two hours of listening to Ronan swear about how shitty a student he was, Adam also felt he had a significant advantage if he ever needed to eviscerate someone in an argument using only curse words.

“You’ve got a goddamn filthy mouth,” Adam said as he switched spots with Ronan. “I’m surprised Father Grey even lets you into the church building.”

Ronan smiled, pleased with himself as he expertly put the car into gear with an additional flair just to piss Adam off. “I deserve a fucking gelato for all my hard work. You down?”

Adam had leftover pizza for dinner, so he could afford to buy gelato for himself. “Sure.”

Chainsaw, who had gotten accustomed to Adam by now, settled in his lap. Tentatively, he rubbed the soft feathers by her beak, wondering how such a creature could know where to find Ronan in Virginia and then fly all the way over here from Venezuela. He had to wonder if Blue was fucking with him somehow with that story, and he was too embarrassed to ask Ronan about it directly, but something told him that Blue had been entirely truthful.

Why couldn’t magic exist? Just because Adam believed in logic and science and rules, didn’t mean that there was no room for everything else that did not abide by any of those things.

Ronan glanced at him and opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by his phone ringing. Adam had brought it with him and left it in the cup holder so that he wouldn’t be responsible for it anymore.

Both Adam and Ronan looked at it. The caller ID said ‘MOM.’ Ronan picked it up immediately.

“Mom?” he answered, voice tense. He listened for a long time, then sighed quietly. “I’m on my way.”

He glanced at Adam as he tossed his phone back into the cup holder. “Mind if we make a small detour?”

“’Course not. Everything okay?”

“We’ll see,” Ronan said, jaw tense.

They drove downtown, into the shabbier parts of town that Adam was used to. They passed his old high school and he sunk lower in his seat, paranoid he would see his parents roaming around the streets looking for him.

Ronan stopped at the orphanage on Trysta Street. Adam knew about it because he often wondered why his parents had never left him there. Not that he wished they had, but he sometimes wondered which would have been worse.

What could Ronan possibly be doing here?

Ronan didn’t ask Adam to stay in the car, so he followed Ronan to the sidewalk. A small girl sat on the steps, her wisps of blond hair sticking out from under a skullcap. She wore a sweater that was too big on her with holes in it. Her look had been despondent and dull, but as soon as she saw Ronan, she leapt to her feet and straight into Ronan’s arms.

“What the hell, urchin?” Ronan said, even as he squeezed her gently. “We went over this.”

The girl said something that Adam couldn’t hear, muffled by Ronan’s shoulder.

Ronan sighed as the door of the orphanage opened and a beautiful blonde woman smiled down at them.

“Hi Mom.”

Adam, still standing at the bottom of the steps, felt like an intruder looking in on a scene that he wasn’t allowed to be a part of.

“Hi sweetheart. I tried everything to get her to participate, but she just wasn’t having it.”

“You should have told me you were coming today, I would have joined you.”

“You have your own life, Ronan. I don’t expect you to drop everything for me,” Mrs. Lynch said, smiling softly at the urchin in Ronan’s arms. “But I know you’d drop everything for this one here. It’s the only reason I called.”

“I don’t like these stupid games,” the girl muttered, gripping Ronan’s hand firmly after he put her on the ground. “I like you, Mrs. Lynch, but I don’t want to play with any of those kids in there.”

“It’s fine, Mom. Parrish and I were going to get some gelato anyway.”

The girl’s eyes brightened at the prospect of gelato. She looked at Adam, her curious gaze piercing. She was probably about seven or eight, but it was difficult to tell with her wardrobe and her thinness. Adam detected something familiar in the hardness of her eyes, the thin layer of suspiciousness that coated her expression—it was a look that Adam often saw when he looked in the mirror.

Adam smiled tentatively at her and waved. She waved back, bunching her hands in her overlarge sweater and pulling at Ronan’s hand self-consciously. But she smiled at him and Adam felt like he had passed some sort of test.

“Oh, excuse my manners,” Ronan’s mother said, descending from the steps to offer Adam her hand. “I’m Aurora, Ronan’s mother.”

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I’m Adam Parrish.”

“Of course! Adam. You are the wonderful young man who helped my son with his car trouble a few days ago.”

Adam glanced at Ronan, who was suddenly occupied with adjusting the girl’s skullcap. She smacked his hand away, leaving him with nothing to fidget with.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Aurora beamed and Adam felt like he was staring straight into the sun. “We’ll chat a bit more later, Adam, but I have to get back to the children.” She turned back to Ronan and the girl, who were whispering between themselves, speaking in a language that Adam didn’t understand. “Opal, you have to be back by dinner, okay?”

The girl nodded and looked up at Ronan.

“Oh no, don’t look at me,” Ronan said. “I don’t know how to keep time.”

The girl rolled her eyes, and it was so much like Ronan that Adam could only stare at the pair of them in surprise.

“Brat,” Ronan said to the girl, who was skipping joyously all the way to the car. She pulled the door open and got in, squealing with glee as Chainsaw cawed in greeting.

Aurora gave her son a kiss on the head and took Adam’s hand in both of hers, squeezing gently as she smiled pleasantly at him. After she disappeared back into the building, Ronan rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hijack your day off.”

“You’re not,” Adam said. “But you’re going to have to explain a bit before we get back in the car.”

“My mom volunteers here sometimes, organizing days where the kids can play outside and do arts and crafts, and shit like that. I used to come a lot to help her, which was when I met Opal. She loves my mom, but she doesn’t like participating and playing with the other kids. Neither did I, so she and I became close. I try to visit her as much as I can, but I don’t want to make her think...” Ronan sighed, his shoulders drooping. “It’s hard not getting attached.”

Adam wanted to say something, but he had no idea what he could possibly say. He opened his mouth, paused, nodded and scratched his head, wishing he could just reach out and take Ronan’s hand.

The whir of a window being rolled down interrupted their moment. “I thought we were getting gelato, not standing around like dumb butts!”

Ronan snorted softly. He raised his eyebrows at Adam. “Is this okay? I can take you home if you want.”

Adam moved to open the car door. “Quit standing around like a dumb butt, Ronan. Take us to get some gelato.”

Ronan smiled, and it was sweeter than any ice cream Adam had ever tasted.

 

#

 

“ _Quis est_?” Opal asked Ronan from the backseat as she played with Chainsaw. “ _Est specialis amicus tuus_?”

Ronan snorted. “No. And speak English in front of company. It’s rude.”

Adam was charmed. They had a secret language.

Opal rested her elbows on the arm rest between Adam and Ronan’s seat. “Fine, I’ll say it in English,” she said, a small smirk on her face. Opal poked his arm. “Are you Ronan’s boyfriend?”

Adam held his breath, not daring to glance at Ronan, who had turned a bit pink.

“We’re friends,” Adam said, hoping that sounded neutral enough. “What language were you speaking?” he asked, even though he already knew.

“It’s fake,” Opal said.

“No, it’s dead,” Ronan corrected. “Latin.”

Opal smacked Ronan on the shoulder. “It’s supposed to be a secret, dumb butt.”

Ronan tried not to look amused.

Adam smiled. “ _Meum nomen est_ Adam,” he said, extending his hand for Opal to shake. “ _Intelligo Latine_.”

Opal’s slow-spreading smile warmed his heart. She put her small hand in his and shook. “Nice to meet you. I’m Opal.”

Ronan was looking at him with furrowed brows. “ _Why_ do you know Latin?”

“Why do _you_?”

“My dad studied classics in school and used to tell us stories in Latin. I taught it to Opal because she wanted to be able to talk about people in front of them without them understanding.”

Adam laughed. “You can’t tell Opal it’s rude to speak other languages in front of people if you’re the one who taught it to her.”

“Sure I can.”

Adam glanced at Opal, who rolled her eyes in simultaneous exasperation and affection for Ronan.

“I learned it,” Adam said, “because I thought it would be useful to know a dead language to eavesdrop on people having secret conversations.”

Opal laughed and punched his arm. “Then you shouldn’t have told us you speak Latin, dumb butt.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

She laughed again, and when they got out of the car to get their gelato, Opal slipped her hand into Adam’s and smiled up at him. Adam, surprised, smiled back and looked to Ronan. Ronan simply eyed them, the corner of his lip tugged upwards as he held the door open.

Opal was allowed to get three flavors in the largest cup. Adam got one flavor—caramel—while Ronan got two—hazelnut and pistachio.

“Because Ronan is nutty,” Opal said, giggling to herself. Ronan rolled his eyes as he paid.

“What do I owe you?” Adam asked as they sat down.

“You can get the next one,” Ronan said, brushing it off.

Adam could have argued and insisted that he pay for his own, but now he owed Ronan an ice cream, which meant they would be here again. So he let it go.

Adam noted that this was the first time someone had bought ice cream for him. Ice cream was considered a luxury, and Adam rarely bought it for himself. He wondered if it tasted better because someone else had bought it for him, or if Adam just hadn’t been eating the best kind of ice cream before.

Opal asked Adam questions about what he did, and he answered her truthfully about his three jobs, that he lived in a small apartment above the church, and that he had only just met Ronan a few days ago.

Adam asked Opal questions about why she liked hanging out with Ronan when he was such a grump all the time, and Opal smiled, put her hand on top of his and said, “The same reason you do.”

Adam swallowed his ice cream, unable to look at Ronan, who gently knocked Opal on the head with his knuckles. “Stop asking him questions, you’re being nosy.”

“You’re not being nosy enough,” Opal said. “What do you two even know about each other? How are you going to be _friends_ if you don’t even know each other’s middle names?”

Adam and Ronan’s gazes intercepted, then quickly deflected in the other direction like a violent car crash.

Adam found it adorable that Opal’s conception of friendship was entirely dependent on the knowledge of each other’s middle names. Also, why had she said _friends_ like that?

“Hurry up and finish your ice cream if you want to go to the park,” Ronan said, standing from the table. “I’m starting the car, so you better run!”

Opal rolled her eyes at Ronan’s back as she leisurely finished her ice cream. Adam sat there, unable to keep the smile off his face at the way she clearly imitated her idol despite her annoyance.

They drove to the park, which was mostly a collection of grassy fields and a single, rusting metal slide. Opal loved it though, going up and down the rickety deathtrap as Chainsaw flew around her head, cawing in support. When Opal got bored, she ran around the fields, picking out interesting-looking sticks to poke Ronan with, and insisted that Adam help her find some rocks to put in the shoes of a boy she didn’t like. He helped her while telling her that there were other ways to deal with conflict. Predictably, she did not listen.

“What is Blue doing?” Opal asked Ronan. “Is she busy?”

“She’s working, Opal. You know that.”

Opal looked put out. “Yeah, I know.”

Adam watched the struggle play out on Ronan’s face. He frowned, staring at Opal as she sighed dejectedly and went to go look for more sticks in the grass. His mouth pinched tightly across his face, his brows knitting together, before he sighed and pulled out his phone. Adam watched, with growing intrigue, as Ronan, who hated his phone, was suddenly texting someone furiously.

“You’re such a pushover,” Adam said quietly. His mouth would not cooperate because it kept smiling when it wasn’t supposed to.

“Am not,” Ronan said as he pushed himself off the ground. He looked down at Adam, offering him a hand up. Adam accepted, feeling the brush of leather against his skin, the smoothness of Ronan’s fingertips against his wrist.

Ronan held onto his hand for a few seconds before letting go. “You know that I will take you back as soon as you say the word. If you’ve got other shit to do than hang out with an eight-year-old.”

Adam appreciated the offer. “I’m fine where I am.”

Ronan glanced away, but Adam thought he saw the shadow of a smile.

“Brat, let’s go! Blue said we can come visit her at work!”

“Pushover,” Adam muttered under his breath, loud enough for Ronan to hear.

Opal laughed joyously, skipping back towards them and the car. She held both Adam’s and Ronan’s hands, linking the three of them together. “Adam, have you met Blue?”

“Of course.”

“She’s my third best friend, after Chainsaw and Ronan.”

Ronan scoffed, picking her up underneath the armpits and throwing her over his shoulder. She squealed in half-delight, half-outrage, pounding her fists on his shoulder and trying to kick at his face.

“Why am I _after_ Chainsaw?” Ronan snarled.

“Chainsaw brings me worms!”

“I literally just bought you ice cream!”

“Yes, but Chainsaw’s favorite food is worms, meaning she is giving me her favorite food. You don’t even like ice cream that much, you dumb butt, so you’re buying me something that you don’t even think is that special.”

“Ice cream is _your_ favorite food, so I’m being more considerate than _Chainsaw_ , who knows you don’t eat worms, you little urchin.”

Opal lifted her head, her brown eyes warm as she looked at Adam for support. “Adam, tell Ronan he’s being silly.”

“Ronan, it’s time you accept the fact that Chainsaw has replaced you as number one best friend.”

“This is bullshit,” Ronan said, putting Opal down beside the car.

“Ooooo, I’m telling Aurora you swore.”

Ronan put on his scariest mask, kneeling in front of Opal to look her straight in the eye. “I’m telling Blue she’s your _third_ best friend.”

Opal considered his bargain, then stuck out her hand. “We are both sworn to secrecy.”

Ronan smiled grimly and spat in his hand. Opal followed suite, and they shook on it.

“Y’all are disgusting.”

Ronan turned to smirk over his shoulder at him. “You’re just jealous you aren’t Opal’s second best friend.”

“Extremely jealous.”

Opal smiled shyly at Adam. “You can be number six.”

Adam was having trouble keeping track. “Who are numbers four and five?”

“Noah is four because he gives me rides on his skateboard. Henry is five because he lets me touch his hair whenever I want to.”

“Ah,” Adam said. “What about Gansey?”

Ronan grinned, showing all his teeth. “Gansey didn’t make the cut because he was too desperate and looked uncool.”

Opal rolled her eyes, but her cheeks turned a bit pink. “Blue can do so much better than Gansey, I don’t know why she likes him and those stupid glasses.”

Ronan was biting his lip to keep from laughing. Opal tried to aim a kick at his shin, but he caught her foot, unable to keep his snickers hidden. Adam had zero difficulty at all imagining Opal being entirely smitten by Gansey’s cheerful smiles and bright eyes, and then pretending she didn’t care a smidgeon.

“Okay, I want to at least beat Gansey on the list,” Adam said, attempting to distract the two quarrelling children from each other. “What if I gave you piggyback rides?”

Opal tapped her chin, then shook her head. “Ronan and Henry already do that. What else do you have to offer?”

Adam considered the girl in front of him and what she valued in friendships. What could Adam offer her?

Adam reached for his watch and took it off, kneeling next to Ronan on the ground in front of her. From here, it was like looking in a mirror—the fear, the wanting for someone to notice her and want her and love her—and something inside his chest unhinged.

He took Opal’s slender wrist and buckled on his shabby old watch. “Whenever I see you, I’ll give you my time. For as long as you’re wearing this, I’m all yours.”

Opal looked down at the leather band on her wrist, her fingers tracing the watch face over and over. She smiled, eyes shining, as she reached out and wrapped her thin arms around Adam’s neck, hard and quick. The hug was over as soon as it started. Opal opened the door of the BMW and shut herself inside. 

Adam looked at Ronan, who was staring at the tinted window of the car with a cloudy expression. He stood, and Adam followed suite, wondering if he had done something wrong. Ronan had said that it was difficult not getting attached...should Adam not have done that? Made it seem like he would always be around when that was something he couldn’t guarantee?

Ronan didn’t say anything, but he was standing close to Adam. He reached out and touched the pale strip of skin along Adam’s wrist with his thumb. Adam looked at Ronan—at the furrowing of his brow, the downturn of his lips—and had never felt a stronger urge to kiss anyone in his entire life.

Ronan pulled his hand away from Adam’s wrist, clearing his throat minutely as he took a step back and opened the door of his car. “Come on, Parrish. Sargent doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

 

#

 

Blue blinked when she saw Adam enter Nino’s Pizza with Ronan and Opal, then beamed so largely at him, it was as if he had saved her cat from a tree or something.

After she and Opal had their reunion greeting, which involved a lot of touching of each other’s hair and Blue putting some clips into Opal’s and complimenting of each other’s wardrobes, Blue sat them all down at a table and brought out Opal’s favorite milkshake. Blue wore a shirt that had been constructed out of at least three other shirts and pants that were covered in patches, which gave Adam the itching feeling that the holes in Opal’s sweater were not due to wear. He knew what old-holey sweaters looked like, and now that he looked a bit closer, the holes in Opal’s sweater seemed too clean.

Blue had called the rest of the gang as soon as Ronan had contacted her, so it wasn’t long after when Noah, Henry and Gansey showed up and squished into their booth. Adam sat in the middle, trapped between Noah and Ronan. Opal, sitting across from him, basked in the attention of her best friends plus that annoying boy named Gansey, who sat next to her and kept trying to earn a place as her best friend. Adam didn’t say much; he was simply content to listen as this group of friends laughed and teased one another, their love evident and overflowing so much so that Adam felt the effects on him as well.

“What did you and Ronan do today?” Noah asked him innocently, keeping his voice lowered.

Adam shrugged, wondering if Ronan could hear them talking about him right next to them. “We ate some pizza and hung out with Opal, mostly.”

“Ugh, what a shitty date. Did he at least buy you the pizza?”

“Shut the fuck up, Noah,” Ronan muttered from Adam’s other side. Noah stuck his tongue out at Ronan and complemented it with a raised middle finger.

Adam wished he could disappear.

“It wasn’t a date,” Adam said meekly. “But I had fun.”

Noah hummed, a spark in his eye and a smirk on his lips. “If you say so, Parrish. But you deserve better, just FYI.”

When it was time for Opal to leave, everyone stood from the table so that Ronan, who was stuck on the inside of the booth, could get out. Opal grabbed Adam’s hand and held it, expecting him to come along too.

“As soon as you guys are back,” Blue said, pointing at Ronan and Adam, “we need to have a chat about Cabeswater. Things are happening.”

Ronan nodded and pulled Opal up into his arms. She didn’t pretend to hate it, but instead wrapped her arms around his neck, eyes closed tightly. Something in Adam’s chest hurt to watch them like this.

In the car, Opal was silent, staring out the window with Chainsaw sitting in her lap. Ronan kept glancing at Opal in the rear view. Adam didn’t think he could say anything that would make returning to an orphanage any better.

Ronan cleared his throat. “We didn’t do the thing, Opal.”

Opal barely glanced at him. “Not in the mood.”

“Oh, come on. It’s tradition. Besides, just think about how funny it will be to see Parrish’s reaction.”

Opal almost smiled, but she continued to stare out the window. “Maybe next time.”

Ronan frowned. After a few silent minutes, Ronan shook his head. “Fuck it,” he said, reaching for the stereo. “I’ll do it by myself.” And pressed the button.

A barrage of sound and beats and screaming hit Adam’s eardrums.

 _Squash one, squash two_...

Ronan was singing along with the words, banging his head and fully invested in his performance at the red light. Adam wanted to ask what the fuck he thought he was doing when he heard Opal laughing from the back seat.

She started to sing along, following Ronan’s head banging and disrupting Chainsaw’s nest in her lap. She started to do this strange dance, and with a laugh, Adam realized she was trying to do the robot and failing. Ronan picked up on it, making his own attempts to do the robot, and Adam felt like he was dying.

Adam tried to remember the last time he had laughed this much in one day. Probably never. His face was beginning to hurt around the jaw and cheeks because of how unfamiliar the muscle movements were.

Aurora was waiting for them when they got to the orphanage. Opal was still laughing at Ronan’s head banging, but the underlying sadness was still there, and probably would be as long as she had to return to this place.

Before going inside, Opal tried to take off Adam’s watch, but he stopped her, unable to bear the thought of taking something away from her when she already had nothing. “I’ll pick it up the next time I see you,” he said. “Keep it safe for me, all right?”

Opal hugged him around his middle, before turning to hug Ronan, who scooped her up and held her in his arms. Opal’s silent tears broke Adam’s heart.

Opal didn’t protest when Ronan carried her up the stairs and disappeared into the building. Adam wiped his face, embarrassed at himself and ashamed that he was the one crying when he had absolutely no right to, but Aurora put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.

“We were going to adopt her,” Aurora said softly as they stood at the bottom of the steps. “Before Ronan’s father died. We didn’t tell her, of course, not until the papers were confirmed, because we didn’t want to get her hopes up until the day we brought her home. It was actually Ronan’s suggestion. He had a hard time not telling her about it, but he understood that it was necessary, for Opal’s sake, to keep it a secret.

“But then Niall died, and the adoption papers fell through. It’s difficult adopting as a single parent, but it’s impossible when I don’t work full-time. Niall’s will left us enough that I’ll never have to, but as for adopting, it’s impossible.

“Ronan was so torn up about it, especially after losing his father, it was like he lost a sister as well.”

Adam felt like crying even more, but he managed to keep it together. Aurora seemed to sense his mood though and gave him a soft hug that he did not feel he deserved. “Ronan’s been going through a rough time, so thank you for helping him.”

Adam was confused. “It was no trouble, his car wasn’t even that broken—”

Aurora laughed. “That’s not what I meant, Adam.”

He didn’t get a chance to ask what she meant though because Ronan re-emerged from the orphanage, his face as mask.

Aurora put her hand on her son’s tense shoulder, her expression lovely and heartbreaking. “I’ll see you at home, love.”

Ronan nodded stiffly and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before going to his car.

Adam promised that he would see Aurora again soon before joining Ronan.

Ronan was silent on the way back to Nino’s, letting the loud beats and angry synths speak on his behalf. They approached a stretch of road that was empty save for a brightly-colored sports car that was waiting for them at the red light. It wasn’t Kavinsky, but it was one of the members of his crowd, to Adam’s distaste. By the time Ronan pulled up next to them, they were already jeering taunts and challenges at Ronan’s closed windows.

Ronan’s hands clenched on the wheel, his shoulders tensed like he was Atlas holding up the world. His desire to burn the rubber off his tires was palpable; Adam knew Ronan wanted to drive until his chest no longer hurt as badly.

But this wasn’t the same thing as Kavinsky. This was reckless.

Adam only had a few seconds before the light turned green. He reached out, put his hand on Ronan’s wrist, and brushed his thumb against a thin white scar. “Blue doesn’t like to be kept waiting, Ronan.”

The light turned green. Kavinsky’s crew sped forward, but Ronan didn’t move. He slowly pulled over on the side of the road, shut off the engine and buried his face in his hands.

Watching Ronan cry was a different sort of helplessness than Adam was used to. Adam didn’t know if it was okay to touch Ronan, or if he should say something, so he did neither, keeping his hands to himself and his mouth shut until Ronan was ready.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but Ronan finally lifted his head and wiped the tears from his face as he sniffed. He cleared his throat and started the engine, whipping into the lane so quickly the tires screeched.

As he drove, Ronan’s hand clutched the gear shift in a stranglehold. Adam, hating that he hadn’t been able to touch Ronan at the orphanage, then again as Ronan cried, gathered his courage. He rested his hand on top of Ronan’s hand. Ronan tensed as he looked down at their hand, but after a long minute, he wordlessly turned his hand over, catching Adam’s fingers between his. Adam squeezed softly, his heart beating like an open wound in his chest, before he let go.

They had only held hands for a few seconds, but Adam hoped he had conveyed everything he didn’t know how to say through his fingers.

When they pulled into the parking lot of Nino’s, both of them sat there, silent and unwilling to leave or speak first.

Ronan cleared his throat. “Thank you for today. I owe you a Day Off.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Lynch. I owe you an ice cream and a two-hour lesson on how an engine works.”

Ronan smiled weakly and nodded. “Let’s go save a rainforest, yeah?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things featured in the next chapter:  
> —The Gangsey  
> —Ravens  
> —Pigeons  
> —Glitter  
> —Welsh Kings


End file.
